Where Did You Go?
If I owned anything of any import you'd have heard of me. Since you have no idea who I am, I quite obviously own neither harry potter nor buffy the vampire slayer.
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Willow sat down in the chair that Lee had obviously just vacated. She was glad that he had gotten some sleep, but she was sorry that he felt guilty about it. The young man in front of her seemed almost a ghost of the vivacious person in all the photographs around the flat. A ghost ... a part of him was a ghost now. She sighed lightly as she watched him sleep for a few moments longer. His freckles stood out against the white of his skin like some sort of horrid disease. She felt the tears come to her eyes and smiled. It was good to know that she wasn't as frozen as Kennedy had claimed. Good to know that none of them were. She stood up and walked into the bathroom attached to the room, filling a glass with water and snagging a bottle of aspirin off the counter, shaking two into her hand before going back into the room. She tapped his shoulder gently, half ready for any violent movements that he may have. He was too drained though, his eyes opened and she found herself wanting to cry all over again for the pain in his eyes. She held out the glass and the tiny white pills.
"Take these and drink this, it'll help," She told him. He didn't argue. Just sat up, took the glass and the pills, downing both and the blinking up at her.
"Who are you?" He asked after a moment. Willow smiled softly.
"I'm Willow. I would have preferred to meet you under different circumstances, but I understand the backlash of an apocolypse. There's food in the kitchen," She told him, tilting her head to the side a little and staring at him with compassionate eyes.
"He was going to invite you to the wedding you know. All of you. Said he was going to make Dawn happy despite herself," He gave a harsh laugh and shook his head. "He wanted to meet you all so badly. The big bad protectors of the world," He looked down at his folded hands, his shoulders tight with tension. Willow didn't say anything. "Who called you?" He asked.
"Buffy. Hermione called her. Good thing too. The funeral is tomorrow. Tonight is for family." Willow told him softly, turning and routing through a dresser, looking for clean clothes. She pulled out a pair of jeans and a pair of red boxers, tossing them on the bed. He turned and stared at them.
"The family ... it wont be the same without him," He said, dragging his eyes up to her and searching for an answer to a question he was too afraid to ask and she wasn't able to answer.
"No, it wont be," She agreed after a few moments. "Time to get dressed," She tugged an arm until he was standing and pulled his shirt over his head quickly. It cracked a smile onto his face.
"I think I'm good to do that on my own. Did you mention food?" He asked softly. Willow nodded.
"I'll go fix you a plate. Lee's already eating. He looked like he hadn't in a while," She told him. His face contorted into a grimace, his jaw clenching.
"He's been playing keeper. Afraid that if he isn't watching I'll disappear." He stood staring at a spot on the wall and Willow walked over to the door. Her hand was on the handle when his voice made her pause. "I'm jealous. They can look at me and remember Fred ... I'm a piece of him and they can pretend that he isn't really gone as long as they can see me ... but I can't pretend he's there. I don't get to have that illusion," His voice was calm, but she could see the tension in his lithe frame when she looked over her shoulder.
"It probably wont help, but I don't think Dawn has that illusion either," Willow told him softly. He laughed, a slightly strangled sound.
"She wouldn't would she?" He agreed with the hint of a harsh laugh. Willow stayed still for a moment, but he remained silent. She opened the door and walked back to the kitchen area. Lee was picking at his food, taking the tiniest of bites as Buffy watched him carefully. Willow walked back into the kitchen and started filling another plate. Moments later a tall red-headed man came out of the room. George. He was wearing only the boxers and jeans that Willow had pulled out for him, his body whip-chord lean and his stomach like washboard. His hair was scruffy and he'd splashed water on his face, evident because the hair around his face was damp. Buffy studied him carefully. If his brother had the same body it was no wonder Dawn had been drawn to him. Even with the lost look in his eyes George was still adorably good looking with a hint of roughness around the edges. The trademark grin that marked him as a bit of a bad boy wasn't anywhere evident on his face though you could see it in all of the pictures around the house. George turned his attention to one of the pictures, his fingertips trailing over a face almost identical to his own. He gently laid the picture face down and took a seat across from Lee.
"Hey mate. Thanks for staying," He told his friend. Lee nodded once, his eyes darting to Georges face and then to his plate like a starving man staring through a restaurant window. Willow set the plate in front of George and then turned her eye on Lee.
"Stop with the nibbling. I expect you to finish all of that," Willow told him, her hands going to her hips and her eyebrows raising expectantly. It got a slightly hysterical giggle out of George.
"You look exactly like my mum when you do that, Fred would have loved it," He told her, his laughter growing until he was clutching at his stomach, unable to stop. Lee cracked a smile and then started laughing softly as well. Willow smiled indulgently at the two of them and wandered back into the kitchen. Dawn's bedroom door opened and Xander came out, looking a little ragged around the edges.
"How is she?" Buffy demanded, popping up to her feet and bouncing lightly in place, her neck craning to look over Xanders shoulder at the closed door. Water turned on and Xander sighed.
"Not good. I got her to take a shower though. The kid's as bad as I was after Anya," He collapsed onto a chair and Buffy closed her eyes against the pain they could all hear in Xander's voice. The laughter from the boys died and both of them looked lost again. Xander looked between the two and shook his head.
"Food is of the good, shovel it in boys," Willow told them, setting a plate in front of Xander as well.
"I'm Xander, you must be George," Xander said, wrinkling his nose before taking a bite. George and Lee had enough practice with Molly to shovel it in at a reasonable pace, even if they couldn't really taste anything but ash. The group was silent as the boys ate and they waited for Dawn to get out of the shower. They all finished eating and Willow looked at the clock over the stove. The five of them were silent as the water continued to run. Each of them lost in their own thoughts as they tried to ignore how long Dawn had been in the shower,"
"I'll go get her out," Xander said softly with a light sigh. He stood up slowly, wondering when he had gotten so tired of death and so selfish as to avoid anothers pain. Especially one of his girls. George stood up quickly.
"Please, sit. I'll go get her," He told the other man, standing up and hurrying over to the bedroom door. He took a deep breath before opening the door. He closed it softly behind him and took in everything around him. It smelled like his brother and Dawn and blood. He spotted the blood stained pillow and frowned down at it. She hadn't cleaned up after the fight. He picked up the pillow and stripped the dirty pillowcase from it, throwing it viciously at the wall and wishing it had been hard enough to leave a mark. There was a picture of Fred in the middle of the bed. He was blowing kisses at the camera. He remembered seeing it and laughing at the two lovebirds, claiming the picture would give their grandchildren nightmares. Only now there wouldn't be grandchildren. They had deserved them. Deserved to have unholy little terrors just like themselves. He turned toward the bathroom and frowned at the sobs he could barely hear over the running water. He knocked softly on the door and took another deep breath when she didn't answer. He opened the door and felt his heart squeeze at the huddled girl in the corner of the bath, her arms wrapped around her knees and her shoulders heaving. He snagged a fluffy blue towel off a rack on the wall and shut off the water, leaning down and pulling her up, wrapping the towel around her unresisting body and the pulling her in for a hug, ignoring how wet he was getting. He led her into her room and grabbed her robe, wrapping that around her as well before sitting on the bed and pulling her into his lap. He tucked her head under his chin and held her tight, wondering if maybe she missed him more than he himself did. He wasn't sure that was actually possible. But maybe she missed him as much. No one else could really understand how the other piece of your soul could suddenly be missing ... no one but Dawn. He didn't even notice when his own tears started or when he started rocking her like a little child, both trying to give and receive comfort.
"I was going to fix it for you," Dawn said later when both of their tears had run out. Her tone was bleak and he didn't understand what she was saying. She leaned back and looked up at his face. "I didn't want you to see the black mark. I was going to fix it. Make someone help him, save him. I couldn't. I'm sorry," She told him, searching his face. George nodded slightly.
"I believe you. There's no reason to be sorry," He told her. Dawn shook her head.
"There's every reason. I should have been with them. I could have saved him. I was with their team. Him and Percy. I could have saved him," Dawn told him, she looked down and seemed to collapse in on herself, the fight in her soul disappearing as she gave in to the blame she felt.
"No. I blame Voldemort and I blame every deatheater there, but I could never blame you. I even blame Fred a little. He was busy laughing instead of taking care of himself," George told her. Dawn nodded.
"That's part of the reason we loved him though, isn't it?" She asked taking a shaky breath. George nodded, fingering the spot that used to have an ear on his head. His brother had thought that was hilarious after George was feeling better. Had threatened to tie him up if he ever got injured again though. They had all been so very afraid that it would be him they lost ... but it had been Fred.
"Yeah," He agreed. Dawn unwrapped herself from George and stood up.
"I'm gonna get dressed," She told him, turning and looking around blankly at her walls.
"You want me to send someone in here?" He asked. Dawn turned her big blank blue eyes on him for a few moments and he was sorry that she had ever met them, that she had to fall in love and go through the pain that he was going through.
"No thanks," She told him. George nodded and left the room. Dawn took a deep breath. She wanted Fred. She wanted her Mom. She wanted to be loved unconditionally for who and what she was. A warrior, a lover, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a key, a sorceress, and a wife. Only she wasn't really a wife. It hurt her more than she wanted to admit that she wasn't a wife. It had been her dream. To marry the handsome prince and live happily ever after with a bunch of tiny princes and princesses running around driving everyone insane. She'd found her prince and he'd been slain by the evil monster. That wasn't the way it went in the stories. She stared at the picture in the middle of her bed and picked it up, her fingers tracing the face in the picture. As her finger moved Fred's image laughed and stopped blowing kisses, trying instead to kiss her finger. She laughed softly, leaning down and kissing the pictures cheek before setting it down. She walked over to the door and opened it, looking down at her feet.
"Buffy, could you help me?" She asked in a tiny voice.
"No problem," Buffy said, sharing a look with Willow and Xander before going to her sister. She wrapped an arm around the taller girls waist and closed the door behind both of them.
"I don't know what to do," Dawn said, sitting down on the foot of her bed. Buffy left her there and walked over to the dresser, digging around for a well used pair of jeans. She pulled out a pair that looked like Dawn wore them a lot and set them on the bed, grabbing a plain blue tank top a bra and a pair of underwear and adding them to the pile. Dawn dried off and started pulling on the clothing. Buffy looked around for a sweater of some sort and spotted a dark blue sweatshirt with some sports logo on the front and picked it up. It didn't smell like Dawn. She watched her sister pull on the last of her clothes and silently handed her the sweatshirt. Dawn pulled it close, holding it to her face and inhaling deeply before pulling it on. Buffy understood the need for some type of tactile comfort. She walked into the bathroom and snagged a brush, walking back to the bed and sitting behind her sister and brushing out the long hair.
"No one does. It doesn't matter how often it happens. Nothing is ever the same and it never feels 100 percent better." Buffy continued to brush out the long hair and Dawn stayed silent. "The pain will fade. It won't go away but it will fade. You never actually get over it, though you'll try to convince yourself you have. Thinking about him actually helps. So does talking about him," Buffy offered after a few more minutes.
"He used to do this. Sit behind me and brush my hair after I took a shower, before bed. It made me feel better when I was upset," Dawn told her bleakly. Buffy didn't stop the brushing.
"Yeah?" She asked her sister with a soft sad smile. Dawn nodded.
"It was one of the reasons I agreed to marry him," She told her. Buffy was startled into a laugh.
"That sounds like a better reason than I usually hear of," Buffy agreed. Dawn smiled softly. "What were the other reasons?" Buffy asked. Dawn was quiet for a moment and Buffy felt like kicking herself, thinking she'd made a mistake. Then Dawn started to talk.
"Everytime I woke up, he was watching me as though I were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. It was like he thought I would disappear during the night or something. He loved that I was strong and able to take care of myself, but he also loved that I wanted to be taken care of sometimes. He told me all of his secrets, but when he did he insisted that we sit under the covers and whisper, even if it were the middle of the day and no one else was home. He doesn't like crusts on his bread and insists on cutting his sandwiches into shapes. He believed anything was possible. And he was always smiling. Always laughing. Always finding something about the world amusing." Dawn told her. Buffy stopped brushing her sisters hair and leaned into her, wrapping her arms around the other girl.
"Those are the best reasons for marriage that I have ever heard. Ever," Buffy told her. Dawn nodded.
"I think so too," She agreed bleakly, staring at a spot on the wall as her sister hugged her tightly.
XXX
Sorry it's been awhile. I'll try and do this some more. I'm thinking only about 3 or 4 more chapters.
- D