Hey I Wrote Something!
Oh my word, I actually have something to post! And it's a Buffy fanfic!
This is a fic I wrote for buffyexchange. Slightly Reedited from my original posting at the exchange.
Title: Week One
Author: dramapoette1
Rating: PG
Characters: Dawn, Buffy
Summary: Right after Buffy was brought back, how did she go from being nearly catatonic to making Dawn lunch? This follows Dawn and Buffy during the first week following Buffy's resurrection as both sisters try to cope with the aftermath and readjust to life as it once was.
Spoilers: S6 Up to the first night in "Afterlife". Goes kinda AU from there.
To Dawn, the first week after Buffy returned seemed to crawl by as slowly as the sun that would set on each day, yet when it ended she would find herself startled by the realization.
That week, each day seemed self-contained in a vacuum. She couldn’t imagine tomorrow, and could barely recall the day before. She was too hyper-aware of the present; she didn’t have enough strength to comprehend anything else. Every day culminated in her utter exhaustion, but sleep was just one more specter to haunt her bed.
Buffy was alive.
It was just too astounding and too draining to comprehend, so Dawn didn’t even try. She couldn’t handle anymore. After a certain point, there would be moments when she just didn’t care anymore. She wouldn’t strain herself with trying to reconcile this reality with the one she had endured for the past four months. She just let herself be carried from one moment to the next within this dreamscape, numb and willfully ignorant.
She was pretty sure anything else would finally break her brain.
No, she couldn’t dwell, just had to concentrate on the now. Assume crash positions. One second to the next. That way, if anything happened (if they took her away again), Dawn was more assured of her ability to survive intact.
The first day, Buffy slept. Dawn made sure no one disturbed her. But every time she passed Buffy’s room, she’d find her fingertips grazing the doorknob. Every trip to the bathroom included a press of her ear against the door. Every descent down the stairs started in a backward glance. The sun set on that first day, and that routine remained unbroken. Just as Dawn ensured that no one disturbed her, Buffy in turn bothered no one.
The second day, Buffy slept. The third day, she slept. Those three days just bled together in one big void. Dawn was down in the kitchen that third afternoon with Willow and Xander. Tara was currently at class, as Dawn should have been. She had convinced the two witches to let her stay home for just this first week. She had forgotten the reason Xander had come over, but she suspected it was just a thinly veiled excuse to visit and check up on things. Her theory proved right when he veered away from polite conversation about two by fours and the Star Trek marathon on TV.
“So…how’s everything? Has anyone seen her yet?”
No need to guess whom he referred to.
“No,” Dawn replied. “She’s still sleeping. She went right to bed that first night, and she slept all day the first day, and yesterday, and last night, and all of today.”
Dawn stared down into the scratches on the kitchen island, using her nails to make them wider and deeper. “Should…should she be sleeping this much?” She looked up at them, then away. “I mean, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”
Willow and Xander glanced at each other in concern.
“She just needs some time Dawnie,” Willow said as she reached across the island and gently placed a hand over hers. “Some time and some rest. I mean, it’s not super surprising,” She shrugged. “I wasn’t brought back from the dead or anything, but that spell took a lot out of me, just doing it, and I’ve been around the block a few times. Of course she’s going to need a little while to recuperate.”
She gave Dawn one of her famous “Perky Will!” smiles. “She’ll be up and quippy before you know it! If anyone’s resilient, it’s the Slayer!”
Dawn looked from the hand that covered hers to the one contributing to the counter’s clawed state. “I guess…”
Willow glanced at Xander again, her eyes a soft-spoken plea. He took the hint.
“Will’s right. Buffy’s been through some pretty bad stuff before. Our girl’s the very study of ‘get back up again’-ness.” He tried for an encouraging smile of his own. “And we’re all here to help her. It’s what we do.”
The smile Dawn attempted in return wasn’t as enthusiastic. “Yeah.” She removed her hand from Willow’s and stepped down from her seat. “I think I’m going to go upstairs and read or something.” The other two’s parting words quickly faded from her mind as she ascended the staircase. She did her best to ignore the itch in her fingers when she passed by that closed door.
Dawn couldn’t sleep that night. After hours of shifting and sighing she finally ran out of tricks to lull herself into unconsciousness. She opened her eyes to the gentle streams of moonlight faintly lighting her room. One beam fell across the hand resting on her stomach, and she lifted her hand, noting the emphasis the moonlight gave on its pale shade. Her raised hand cast a shadow on the wall, and she waved it, watching as its counterpart echoed the movements. She did this for a few moments, noting at which angles the shade stretched and compressed. Then she started to have a little fun with it, experimenting with different shapes and formations to see what kind of shadow creatures she could make. She stuck out two fingers on one hand and placed them in the mouth of the monster she created with the other.
“I am a vampire! I am going to eat you and suck your blood like sweet, sweet Kool-Aid! Om nom nom.”
She played with her shadow vamp for a few moments, but then realized that she was being kind of dumb and laid her arms down with a frustrated grunt bordering on a whine. She just wanted to sleep, gosh darn it! She stared up at the ceiling and mentally went over any sleep-getting techniques she may have forgotten.
Dawn’s stomach grumbled. That could do it.
She kicked the covers off her body and swung her legs over the side. She treaded lightly across the carpet and tried to open the door as quietly as possible. Though the hall was mostly obscured in the dark, she knew her way by touch. She glided her hand over the wall and down the stair railing, carefully controlling each step as she avoided the particularly squeaky parts. She was already contemplating how she could mix various breakfast materials together and still make it edible when she rounded the corner to the kitchen and-
“Buffy?”
Dawn had only whispered it, but Buffy started as if it had been a shout, turning rapidly to face her, clutching a food item to her chest as if she had been caught stealing it. Dawn put up a placating hand and said softly,
“It’s just me. I didn’t mean to startle you. Sorry.”
It was the first time she had seen her sister in days, and Dawn found herself unconsciously trying to absorb every detail of her appearance. She stood with her shoulders hunched, arms providing a protective harness for what Dawn now recognized as a box of graham crackers clutched to her chest. The light from the open refrigerator cast shadows across Buffy’s face, catching in the lines and dips around her mouth and under her eyes. It made her seem so tired and worn that Dawn imagined brushing collected dust out of those crevices.
“Are you ok? …Why are you up? Do you need something?”
Buffy quickly glanced down from one side to the other. Then she looked at her blankly and opened her mouth, then closed it, lips struggling to form words out of the air they took in. She looked to the box she nestled against herself and finally responded,
“Hungry.”
Dawn stepped slowly towards her, hoping the Slayer wouldn’t step back.
“Yeah, me too. I was about to try making PB and J sandwiches…only with pancakes instead of bread.”
She looked to darkness that still coated the world beyond the window.
“It’s still way early, but we could have breakfast together,” She gestured toward the kitchen island, a note of hope in her voice. “…If you wanted.”
“No,” Buffy said, wrinkling her brow as if her mind had to search through thick fog to find the word. “I’m ok. Just tired.”
Dawn stepped back, hand falling into a slump with the rest of her body.
“Um, yeah, totally.” She said, waving it off. “You need to sleep and stuff.” You’ve been sleeping for three days.
Buffy didn’t respond, but seem to give off a vaguely affirmative vibe as she passed by her sibling, pausing only to grab the jumbo jar of peanut butter from the pantry before disappearing up the stairs.
“I’ll see you later then...” Dawn called after her, but received no reply.
She stared after her sister for a few moments before moving over to the fridge she had left open and started to gather supplies for her culinary experiment.
She ended up just having a bowl of fruit loops.
Buffy slept through the next day as well. Tara wondered if she and Willow should stay home and check up on her. Dawn insisted that they didn’t need to.
“I saw her up this morning, and she ate something. That’s good, right? You guys need to go to class. I can always call if anything happens,” Dawn said as she absently picked at her food.
She didn’t admit that she didn’t want them there, that she wanted the house and Buffy to herself.
Tara didn’t seem entirely convinced.
“Are you sure sweetie? Willow and I can stay. We can skip one class, it’s not a big deal.”
Willow interjected. “But we were planning to check out that new mystical bazaar we found. Anya wanted us to check for potential suppliers, remember? And I really need to find that item. We’ll just be gone for a few hours. Buffy’s only been sleeping; I don’t think anything too serious is going to happen. And even if it does, Dawn can contact us immediately, or Xander. You’ll be fine, right Dawnie?”
Dawn nodded her head confidently. “Totally. It’s not as if I’m eight or something; I can handle a few hours in the middle of the day in my locked house.”
“It’s settled then!” Willow said.
Tara looked to Dawn solemnly. “You’re sure?”
“Perfectly sure.”
Willow smiled at her. “Thanks, Dawnie. This is really important.”
She picked up her bag and prepared to leave.
“Come on Tara,” She said, beckoning to her girlfriend. “We gotta get going.”
Tara rose as well, leaving Dawn with one last assurance. “We’ll come straight back if you need anything, ok? Don’t be afraid to call.”
Dawn nodded. “I promise.”
Tara bent over and kissed Dawn on the forehead and followed Willow out the door. T
he slam of the door behind them signaled Dawn’s solitude.
It was only after a couple of hours of watching television that Dawn found that the hand that had been wrapped around the remote was now encasing the shiny brass metal attached to Buffy’s door. She knocked lightly with her other hand, half-hoping that Buffy didn’t hear it. Should she go in? After a held breath of a pause she inched open the door. A thin stream of light cut a beam through the darkness as it cast itself along the floor. There was almost no other illumination. Only a faint glow seeping through the drawn curtains hinted at the day outside. Dawn waited another moment, listening for any acknowledgement of her intrusion before peeking in her head around the doorframe.
“Buffy?” She whispered, searching for her sister’s form as she entered.
There she was, asleep in her bed. She was still, with her covers almost completely undisturbed as they lay over her like a shroud. No creases, no wrinkles, no hint of shifting or readjusting; just a blank face and a motionless body. Dawn refused to acknowledge the images and connotations that welled up in her mind. She crouched down to the floor, sitting Indian style as she rested her head against the doorframe. She studied Buffy. Studied the shade of her hair created by the dim lighting, the shadows that fell across her face, the miniscule movement of her chest that proved that she did breathe. She reassured herself of the evidence before her, of the presence of that bed’s occupant. She lost track of how many hours she sat there watching her sister breathe.
That night provided another insomniac experience. The hallway was even darker than the night before. She kept her hand against the wall, using it to guide her and hoping that she wouldn’t trip over anything. As she crossed past Buffy’s door, she heard a faint rustle of movement. She stopped, listening. There was another. A shadow lurked in the corner of her eye. She completely stilled, mentally scrambling for an attack plan that she might need. Was it a burglar? Random demon seeking vengeance? She turned, nearly jumping out of her skin when she bumped into a wall of cool solidity. It cursed something British.
“Spike!” She almost screeched, clutching at her chest as she tried to keep quiet. “What the heck are you doing here!?”
Sure enough, it was Spike, now gently illuminated by an errant beam of moonlight, and looking almost as startled at being found as she was for running into him. He spoke, seeming a bit flustered.
“Uh, nothing, just-”
“Sneaking into my house in the middle of the night and being a total creeper?” She interrupted.
“Not a creeper!” He said defensively “…Just couldn’t sleep.”
Dawn shifted her weight to one hip, crossed her arms, and cocked one eyebrow as she gave him her patented Look of Skepticism.
“Spike, you’re a vampire. You don’t sleep at night. That’s the funny thing about being a nocturnal creature of darkness.”
He shrugged, having the decency to concede that point. “Yeah, alright, I just wanted to…” He paused, avoiding her gaze in favor of picking at his nails and shifting awkwardly.
“What, Spike?” She questioned tartly, hoping he had a good enough excuse for almost making her pee her pajamas.
“Wanted to check up on her, s’all.” He glanced her way, the faint moonlight softening the angles of his face and making the hue of his eyes a more gentle blue. If his blood circulated, there would have probably been a faint blush of embarrassment.
She relaxed her stance at that. “Honestly? I don’t know how she is.” Her expression became troubled. “She’s been sleeping so much. And she doesn’t move at all! It’s almost like she’s-”
Spike stepped forward and placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Bit,” he said, looking into her eyes with an earnest conviction. “She ain’t. Don’t know what she’s going through, but she ain’t dead.”
Dawn glanced over at Buffy’s room. “Dawn,” Spike said, tightening his grip on her shoulder as he made her look at him. “She ain't.”
Dawn shrugged her shoulders and Spike let go. She exhaled heavily, as if she could expel all of her sudden nervous energy. “I know. I know she’s not.” She unconsciously started pacing a few steps, and Spike fluidly moved to accommodate her. Suddenly she stopped and leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms. Her eyes were fixed upon the floor, her expression murky. After a couple of minutes she slid down to the floor, resting her lower back against the wall and leaning forward to place her forehead on her knees.
“Dawn?” Spike questioned, crouching down into a similar position at her side. “You alright?” He hovered protectively.
“It’s so screwed up.” She said, her voice sounding muffled and slightly watery. She sniffed.
He leaned in closer to her. "What's screwed up, luv?"
“Am I screwed up?” She suddenly drew herself up and looked at him, eyes and nose now turning red and runny as she struggled to control the moisture that built up there.
“Am I a colossal freak of nature because I think it’s fricking screwed the hell up that my sister’s alive?” She asked this with utmost sincerity. “Shouldn’t I be happy? …Why can’t I just be happy?”
She looked up to the ceiling and blinked rapidly, hoping so badly that Spike couldn’t see her lip quivering in the dark, but he probably could because of those stupid vampire senses, and she wished so hard that she could just suck it up and stop being a retard.
“I mean, first she’s there, and she’s protecting me and being annoying and saving the world, and then she's not...for the longest time she’s just not, and now oh wait, she is!?”
She looked at him, her eyes wide and teary with incredulity as her voice reached an intensity that bordered on breaking. A high-pitched hiccup-sob escaped before she could hold it back.
There came rustling noises from Willow and Tara’s room, and Dawn gasped in her words, sitting stock still and doing her best to reign in the crying. She didn't dare breathe. Spike's eyes flickered in the direction of their door. They listened for further activity. After a few extended minutes none came, and she let out her breath in a shaky quiver.
“Way to go me. Let’s wake up the whole house,” She whispered, admonishing herself.
She sniffled again, and used the palms of her hands to wipe at her eyes. She glanced over at Spike and immediately looked away again out of mortification.
“Sorry about going all nuclear meltdown on you.” She clutched her arms around her knees and felt awkward. She had cried in front of him plenty of times that summer, but that summer had been a special place, like a suspension in time where what you did didn't matter because it wasn't real. Now that Buffy was back, it was like she was supposed to be real again (had she ever been?) and supposed to be getting older and growing up and being strong. Breaking down in front of Spike's open, accepting eyes didn't seem allowed anymore.
Spike said nothing, just stared at her with a kindness and empathy that she had been told repeatedly vampires couldn’t possess.
Then he said softly, “Come ‘ere, luv.”
He placed a hand on her hair and lowered her head onto his shoulder, gently stroking the strands. “Nothing to apologize for,” He whispered. She sighed as she nestled her face into his leather and let herself not grow up.
Her next waking sensations were the slide of the covers against her skin and the soft rays of daylight illuminating her closed eyelids. She opened them, reveling in the pleasant ache that spread throughout her muscles as she stretched and flexed them. As the drowsy fog lifted from her mind, the first cognitive thought she had was: Wow, I haven’t slept like that in a while. Then as she looked around her room, the next one was: How did I get in my bed?
Sudden remembrances of the night before came to her, and after the initial wave of embarrassment passed, she quickly hypothesized her midnight mode of transportation from the floor of the hallway outside her sister’s room.
Spike. He’d had to endure her soggy cryfest and carry her fat ass back to bed. He was probably trying to remove snot stains from his duster right now. She’d have to get him spicy buffalo wings or something.
She got up, and as she strolled down the hall on her quest for breakfast, her eye couldn’t help but stray to that closed door. Maybe... She stopped in front of it, feet having unconsciously carried her to that spot.
She debated for a second, and then knocked on the door.
“Buffy?”
She opened it. She was surprised to find Buffy sitting in her bed, actually awake. An empty jar of peanut butter lay on the floor next to the bed with a used spoon sticking out of it. She sat Indian style on top of the covers with her back to the dim sunlight filtering through her curtains. In her hands she cradled Mr. Gordo, and though her gaze was on the stuffed pig, Buffy didn’t even seem to be aware that she was holding it.
“Hey Buffy, you’re awake,” Dawn said as she approached the foot of her sister’s bed.
She sat down on the edge and tried to meet her eyes. She smiled gently. “How’re you doing?”
Buffy snapped out of her reverie, finally noticing the presence beside her and letting out a slightly threatened, “What?”
“How are you?”
The Slayer blinked, slightly wrinkling her forehead as one thumb stroked along the plush material of Mr. Gordo’s leg. She didn’t speak for a moment.
“I’m…fine. Ok.” Her words seemed distracted, as if she didn’t fully grasp the question.
Dawn bit her lip and hesitated for a beat.
“It’s nice to see you,” She said, venturing to reach out and cover her sister’s hand with her own. Buffy unconsciously shrank away from the touch. Dawn quickly retracted her hand and continued,
“You haven’t been around the house much.”
She waited for a response, but Buffy didn’t attempt to keep the conversation going. She tried again.
“Have you been doing much, besides sleeping?”
Buffy glided her thumb over Gordo’s hoof, still not looking at Dawn, though this time she answered.
“…No…not really…”
“Oh,” Was all Dawn said, and she now took the opportunity to study her sibling.
Though not as prominent as before, dark circles still lay under Buffy’s eyes, and she looked so much older to Dawn than she ever had before. She must have found an opportunity since Dawn saw her last to change her clothes, because she now wore a T-shirt as worn and baggy as the sweatpants beneath it. Dawn’s gaze fell to her hair, and she noticed how stringy and greasy it appeared to be. She reached out to touch it, but then decided against it.
“Hey Buffy, have you, um…showered…at all yet?”
Buffy looked a little surprised at her. Her hand wandered up to her hair and she brushed through it, feeling the texture as she rubbed a few oily strands between her thumb and forefinger. Dawn saw that there was still dirt underneath her nails and that scabs had formed over her knuckles.
Now it was Buffy’s turn to say, “Oh.”
“Do you want to do that?” Dawn asked and stood up, grasping at the opportunity. “I can get the bathroom ready for you, if you want. Wouldn’t a hot bath be nice, Buffy?”
Buffy’s hand descended and rejoined her other in holding Mr. Gordo. She thought about it.
“Okay.” She said quietly.
Dawn smiled at her. “Cool. I don’t think there are any towels in the closet, so I’ll just grab one from downstairs and then meet you in the bathroom, ok?”
Buffy nodded.
“Alright, I’ll be right back.”
A faint sense of relief filled Dawn as she treaded down the stairs to the laundry room. She was actually getting Buffy to do something. It only took her a few seconds to rifle around the dryer for a towel, and a couple of minutes later she was back upstairs. But when she went to the bathroom, she was confused to find it empty. She went back to Buffy’s room and found that she hadn’t moved from the position Dawn had left her in. She came to stand before her and bent down a little to try to meet her eyes, her own shining with concern.
“Hey, I thought you were going to take a bath? I got your towel right here.”
Buffy looked up at her, blinking a few times and slightly shaking her head as if she was trying to clear her mind. “Oh, right.”
Dawn waited. Buffy still didn’t move. Ok, new plan.
“Um, here, why don’t we put this right…there,” Dawn said as she carefully lifted Mr. Gordo out of Buffy’s hands and placed him next to her on the bedspread. She thought about it for a moment, then reached out and cupped her hand under Buffy’s elbow, saying, “Come on, you need to tell me what shampoo and stuff you want,” as she gently encouraged the Slayer to stand.
Buffy surprisingly obliged and followed Dawn as she led her out into the hallway and down to the bathroom. Once there, Dawn immediately went about collecting the necessary toiletries as Buffy sat down on the closed toilet.
Dawn opened the cabinet beneath the sink, searching through it for the materials she needed and describing them as she laid them out on the counter.
“Let’s see what shampoo we have… Ok, there’s strawberry…and lavender…They’re Willow and Tara’s, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you used some. I’m pretty sure there’s some mango-kiwi left…”
She began to dig deeper toward the back. “I think there’s and old bottle back here that’s…” Her hand reemerged from the dark interior of the cabinet, bearing the bottle in question.
“...Vanilla..." Buffy said, softly enough that her sister didn't catch it.
Dawn turned to Buffy, gesturing at the line of shampoo bottles as a game show host’s assistant would at a selection of prizes.
“So…want anything in particular?”
Buffy stared at the collection of shampoos, but Dawn wasn’t completely sure if her question really registered.
“Uh, we’ll just go with vanilla then.”
She put the other bottles away, and brought the chosen shampoo, along with conditioner and body wash, over to the bathtub and set them up along the edge. Dawn double-checked that she had gotten everything before she addressed Buffy again.
“I put your towel on the counter there. If there’s anything else you need, let me know, Ok? I’ll be downstairs.”
Buffy nodded.
Dawn paused, debating whether she should say anything else. Will you please talk to me? What’s wrong with you? Is this my fault?
Instead all she said was,
“Um, bye then.”
She gave Buffy one last glance and then left.
It wasn’t until after almost an hour of watching TV that Dawn ventured upstairs again and caught Buffy just as she was retreating into her room. She had put the T-shirt and sweatpants back on, and though her hair looked wet, it didn’t appear that clean.
“Hey Buffy,” Dawn said as she approached the Slayer. “How was your bath?”
There was a slight jerk of her shoulders as Buffy became aware of her presence and turned to face her. She kept her hand securely wrapped around her doorknob.
“...Fine...going to take a nap.”
Dawn frowned. “You’ve been sleeping a lot already," She said as she stepped closer to her, forcing herself not to give in to urge of grabbing her sister's arm and trying to keep her from ever entering that room again.
Buffy hunched against the door.
“Yeah, I’m just tired.”
Dawn stepped back, quietly clenching her hands. “Oh…ok then.”
Buffy slipped inside and closed the door.
Dawn had to go back to school the next day. The hallways felt too lonely and empty and too cramped and confined all at once. People sometimes looked at her, wondering who the new girl was and why she started so late. Some classmates who had gone to middle school with her remembered vague stories from the year before and were eager to satisfy curious ears.
“…She seemed cool to me, but I always heard that she was a little weird…”
“…And then her mom died and she totally freaked out in front of everyone! It was crazy! I didn’t see it, but my friend did…”
“…She cut herself all the time and once she was in the hospital for a few days because she tried to commit suicide…”
“…I don’t know, I think her sister’s in a gang or something…”
She sat by herself. She didn’t try to make friends. She just spaced out through each class and dug her pen into the paper of her notebook, drawing jagged lines that cut through page after page.
Xander drove her home. He was friendly, and tried to make casual conversation with general questions like, “How was your day?” and “Do you like your classes?” and “Are you sure none of your teachers are demon bug-ladies?” and “Did you make sure the jello was safe?”
Dawn gave him the usual replies, like “Fine” and “Yeah” and “Yes, Anya gave me that demon-detecting charm” and “I don’t trust their jello anyway”.
Xander went on to tell her about the new contract his construction company got and all the fun times that can be had dry-walling, and though she knew that he was just trying to help and make her feel comfortable because times were weird, Dawn found herself mostly tuning him out.
“…So then I dropped by the house before I came to get you, and Willow told me that she spent some time with Buffy today while you were at school.”
That immediately got her attention.
“Really? Buffy was around the house today?” She went out of her room?
“Yep. Will said that she came down to grab something to eat and that they ended up talking for a little while. Had an actual conversation, even.”
Xander smiled warmly at her. “See? Our old Buffster’s already starting to come around, what with the human interaction, and extended sentences, and everything! Isn’t that great?”
Dawn stared out the window, watching the trees and sidewalk pass by. She allowed herself a small feeling of hope.
“Yeah, that is.”
Willow was there by the staircase when Dawn entered the house. Xander honked goodbye, and both girls waved as he drove off. A welcoming smile spread across Willow's face as she came forward to greet the young brunette.
“Hey Dawnie! How was your first day? No possessed puppets or anything, right?”
Dawn gave a distracted shake of her head as she glanced around.
“No, no demony things. Just high school stuff.”
She leaned to the side as she tried to look past Willow and up the stairs.
“Xander said that you saw Buffy today?” Dawn hinted, trying not to sound too forward.
Willow followed her gaze to the top of the stairway, and then made a face of recognition.
“Oh yeah! She came down earlier and we talked for a bit. She seems better than before.”
The redhead paused for a moment, then wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Well, she was a little bit grumpy, but that’s probably because she was hungry.”
Dawn gestured upward. “So she’s…”
“In her room. You can go see her if you want. Maybe tell her how your day went?”
Dawn was already had her foot on the first step and was moving past Willow.
“Yeah, I think I’ll do that…”
It was déjà vu all over again as Dawn knocked on the door and called,
“Buffy?”
The curtains were partially open this time, allowing the warm glow of the late afternoon sun to light the room. Buffy sat on her bed, one leg dangling off the side and the other bent in front of her as she sharpened a small blade.
“Going slaying tonight?” Dawn asked as she leaned against the doorframe.
Buffy looked up from her work, and saw Dawn standing there. She looked down at her weapon.
“I was thinking about it. Haven’t done it since…” She trailed off, and Dawn thought about when the last time she slayed really was. She tried to change to subject.
“So, I heard you talked to Willow today. She said it was nice to see you.”
Buffy acknowledged this with a slight nod. She continued working with her blade and sharpening tools. She didn’t seem interested in talking about it.
Dawn stepped farther into the room, trying to regain Buffy’s attention.
“Today was my first day at school,” Dawn hinted. Did you like it? Did you get a top locker? Want me to beat up anyone for you?
Buffy remained distracted by her task at hand.
“…Nothing exciting happened though. Not much to tell.”
Buffy nodded faintly as she examined her blade’s shine. Dawn gave up on that, and began gazing around the room. As she wandered over to the bed, something caught her eye. There, half-hidden beneath it, was something pink and fuzzy. She reached down to pick it up. A moment later Dawn found herself holding a headless Mr. Gordo with stuffing coming his torn hole of a neck, his little piggy innards spilling out.
She held him up before Buffy, eyes wide as she asked for an explanation.
“Buffy, what happened to Mr. Gordo?”
Buffy stilled.
“I was sharpening my axe earlier. It was an accident.” She said sharply, gesturing to the axe in question that rested up against the wall.
“Maybe you should put your weapons in the chest downstairs,” Dawn said cautiously as she moved toward the axe to pick it up.
“Willow told me she was the one who brought me back,” Buffy blurted out.
Dawn started, looking at the Slayer in surprise.
“What?” She asked
“Nothing,” Buffy said, looking away from Dawn.
Dawn bit her lip, looking down, then up again. “…Buffy, are you ok?”
“I’m fine,” She said brusquely. Buffy wouldn’t meet her gaze.
Dawn swallowed, and drew her eyes to the floor. She paused, then said in a voice that came out harder than she intended, “…Do you wish she hadn’t?”
Buffy whipped her head up to her, saying, “What? Dawn-”
“Why won’t you talk to me?!” She interrupted, coming to stand before her sister, finally speaking, finally demanding answers.
“You’ve been acting so weird! I don’t know anything about hell dimensions, but maybe saying something about it, acknowledging it, would help!”
Buffy’s demeanor suddenly grew darker, her eyebrows drawn down and her voice becoming harsher as she said, “Dawn-”
Dawn sat down next to her and met her eyes with a pleading look. Just look at me, just tell me.
“Do you hate being here?” She asked, her eyes watering. “With me?”
She blinked her eyes and swallowed. “I’m sorry,” She said quietly. “I tried. I tried so hard to be strong and grown-up and alone when you weren’t here, but I couldn’t. I’m so horrible at it you have no idea. And it seemed so long and I thought, 'Now it will always be like this', and that was so scary. But now you’re here, and I can touch you, but you won’t let me, or talk to me, and I don’t know what to do!”
She sniffled, wiping furiously at her eyes and feeling ashamed.
“I know this is all my fault,” she whispered. “But I can’t handle it. I’m sorry.” I'm sorry I'm weak, I'm sorry you're hurt, I'm sorry I don't know what to do, I'm sorry because you shouldn't have died for me.
She sniffled more and concentrated on the stitching in her jeans. She just couldn't control her eyes. The tears dropped down and down and she couldn't see anything. Suddenly she felt gentle fingers stroking her hair. She looked up at Buffy, whose own eyes had become red and glassy.
“Dawnie,” She said softly. “This isn’t your fault. It’s not your fault.”
Dawn hid her face in Buffy’s neck and cried like she had wanted to the entire summer as her big sister finally held her again.
The next morning Dawn briskly headed out the door for her second day of school. She had descended the steps and was walking up to the street when she heard Buffy call out behind her.
“Dawn!”
Dawn turned around to see her sister rushing out after her.
“What’s wrong?” She said, slightly alarmed.
Buffy caught up to her and presented her with a brown paper bag.
“Lunch,” She said.
A sentimental smile spread across Dawn’s face as she took it.
“You made me lunch?” A warm little feeling grew in her heart. “Wow. Thanks.”
A sudden seriousness came over Buffy’s face. “You better go. You've been out enough since ... I got back. And you know what they say. Those of us who fail history? Doomed to repeat it in summer school.”
They exchanged small smiles. Dawn enveloped her in a heartfelt hug. Buffy returned it.
“Thank you,” Dawn whispered. “I’ll see you later?”
Buffy nodded.
“Yup.”
Dawn waved her final farewell as she departed. She didn’t see the blank expression that overtook her sister’s face once she had turned her back.
As she walked through the halls of her school that day, a little less empty, a little less confining, her mind turned back to one exchange she had had with Spike during that long, long summer.
“What’s going to happen now?” She had asked, desperate for any answer, even if it was empty, even if she knew it wasn’t true.
He had put his arm around her shoulder, trying to comfort her with the weight of his touch, and just responded, “Don’t right know myself.”
This is a fic I wrote for buffyexchange. Slightly Reedited from my original posting at the exchange.
Title: Week One
Author: dramapoette1
Rating: PG
Characters: Dawn, Buffy
Summary: Right after Buffy was brought back, how did she go from being nearly catatonic to making Dawn lunch? This follows Dawn and Buffy during the first week following Buffy's resurrection as both sisters try to cope with the aftermath and readjust to life as it once was.
Spoilers: S6 Up to the first night in "Afterlife". Goes kinda AU from there.
To Dawn, the first week after Buffy returned seemed to crawl by as slowly as the sun that would set on each day, yet when it ended she would find herself startled by the realization.
That week, each day seemed self-contained in a vacuum. She couldn’t imagine tomorrow, and could barely recall the day before. She was too hyper-aware of the present; she didn’t have enough strength to comprehend anything else. Every day culminated in her utter exhaustion, but sleep was just one more specter to haunt her bed.
Buffy was alive.
It was just too astounding and too draining to comprehend, so Dawn didn’t even try. She couldn’t handle anymore. After a certain point, there would be moments when she just didn’t care anymore. She wouldn’t strain herself with trying to reconcile this reality with the one she had endured for the past four months. She just let herself be carried from one moment to the next within this dreamscape, numb and willfully ignorant.
She was pretty sure anything else would finally break her brain.
No, she couldn’t dwell, just had to concentrate on the now. Assume crash positions. One second to the next. That way, if anything happened (if they took her away again), Dawn was more assured of her ability to survive intact.
The first day, Buffy slept. Dawn made sure no one disturbed her. But every time she passed Buffy’s room, she’d find her fingertips grazing the doorknob. Every trip to the bathroom included a press of her ear against the door. Every descent down the stairs started in a backward glance. The sun set on that first day, and that routine remained unbroken. Just as Dawn ensured that no one disturbed her, Buffy in turn bothered no one.
The second day, Buffy slept. The third day, she slept. Those three days just bled together in one big void. Dawn was down in the kitchen that third afternoon with Willow and Xander. Tara was currently at class, as Dawn should have been. She had convinced the two witches to let her stay home for just this first week. She had forgotten the reason Xander had come over, but she suspected it was just a thinly veiled excuse to visit and check up on things. Her theory proved right when he veered away from polite conversation about two by fours and the Star Trek marathon on TV.
“So…how’s everything? Has anyone seen her yet?”
No need to guess whom he referred to.
“No,” Dawn replied. “She’s still sleeping. She went right to bed that first night, and she slept all day the first day, and yesterday, and last night, and all of today.”
Dawn stared down into the scratches on the kitchen island, using her nails to make them wider and deeper. “Should…should she be sleeping this much?” She looked up at them, then away. “I mean, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”
Willow and Xander glanced at each other in concern.
“She just needs some time Dawnie,” Willow said as she reached across the island and gently placed a hand over hers. “Some time and some rest. I mean, it’s not super surprising,” She shrugged. “I wasn’t brought back from the dead or anything, but that spell took a lot out of me, just doing it, and I’ve been around the block a few times. Of course she’s going to need a little while to recuperate.”
She gave Dawn one of her famous “Perky Will!” smiles. “She’ll be up and quippy before you know it! If anyone’s resilient, it’s the Slayer!”
Dawn looked from the hand that covered hers to the one contributing to the counter’s clawed state. “I guess…”
Willow glanced at Xander again, her eyes a soft-spoken plea. He took the hint.
“Will’s right. Buffy’s been through some pretty bad stuff before. Our girl’s the very study of ‘get back up again’-ness.” He tried for an encouraging smile of his own. “And we’re all here to help her. It’s what we do.”
The smile Dawn attempted in return wasn’t as enthusiastic. “Yeah.” She removed her hand from Willow’s and stepped down from her seat. “I think I’m going to go upstairs and read or something.” The other two’s parting words quickly faded from her mind as she ascended the staircase. She did her best to ignore the itch in her fingers when she passed by that closed door.
Dawn couldn’t sleep that night. After hours of shifting and sighing she finally ran out of tricks to lull herself into unconsciousness. She opened her eyes to the gentle streams of moonlight faintly lighting her room. One beam fell across the hand resting on her stomach, and she lifted her hand, noting the emphasis the moonlight gave on its pale shade. Her raised hand cast a shadow on the wall, and she waved it, watching as its counterpart echoed the movements. She did this for a few moments, noting at which angles the shade stretched and compressed. Then she started to have a little fun with it, experimenting with different shapes and formations to see what kind of shadow creatures she could make. She stuck out two fingers on one hand and placed them in the mouth of the monster she created with the other.
“I am a vampire! I am going to eat you and suck your blood like sweet, sweet Kool-Aid! Om nom nom.”
She played with her shadow vamp for a few moments, but then realized that she was being kind of dumb and laid her arms down with a frustrated grunt bordering on a whine. She just wanted to sleep, gosh darn it! She stared up at the ceiling and mentally went over any sleep-getting techniques she may have forgotten.
Dawn’s stomach grumbled. That could do it.
She kicked the covers off her body and swung her legs over the side. She treaded lightly across the carpet and tried to open the door as quietly as possible. Though the hall was mostly obscured in the dark, she knew her way by touch. She glided her hand over the wall and down the stair railing, carefully controlling each step as she avoided the particularly squeaky parts. She was already contemplating how she could mix various breakfast materials together and still make it edible when she rounded the corner to the kitchen and-
“Buffy?”
Dawn had only whispered it, but Buffy started as if it had been a shout, turning rapidly to face her, clutching a food item to her chest as if she had been caught stealing it. Dawn put up a placating hand and said softly,
“It’s just me. I didn’t mean to startle you. Sorry.”
It was the first time she had seen her sister in days, and Dawn found herself unconsciously trying to absorb every detail of her appearance. She stood with her shoulders hunched, arms providing a protective harness for what Dawn now recognized as a box of graham crackers clutched to her chest. The light from the open refrigerator cast shadows across Buffy’s face, catching in the lines and dips around her mouth and under her eyes. It made her seem so tired and worn that Dawn imagined brushing collected dust out of those crevices.
“Are you ok? …Why are you up? Do you need something?”
Buffy quickly glanced down from one side to the other. Then she looked at her blankly and opened her mouth, then closed it, lips struggling to form words out of the air they took in. She looked to the box she nestled against herself and finally responded,
“Hungry.”
Dawn stepped slowly towards her, hoping the Slayer wouldn’t step back.
“Yeah, me too. I was about to try making PB and J sandwiches…only with pancakes instead of bread.”
She looked to darkness that still coated the world beyond the window.
“It’s still way early, but we could have breakfast together,” She gestured toward the kitchen island, a note of hope in her voice. “…If you wanted.”
“No,” Buffy said, wrinkling her brow as if her mind had to search through thick fog to find the word. “I’m ok. Just tired.”
Dawn stepped back, hand falling into a slump with the rest of her body.
“Um, yeah, totally.” She said, waving it off. “You need to sleep and stuff.” You’ve been sleeping for three days.
Buffy didn’t respond, but seem to give off a vaguely affirmative vibe as she passed by her sibling, pausing only to grab the jumbo jar of peanut butter from the pantry before disappearing up the stairs.
“I’ll see you later then...” Dawn called after her, but received no reply.
She stared after her sister for a few moments before moving over to the fridge she had left open and started to gather supplies for her culinary experiment.
She ended up just having a bowl of fruit loops.
Buffy slept through the next day as well. Tara wondered if she and Willow should stay home and check up on her. Dawn insisted that they didn’t need to.
“I saw her up this morning, and she ate something. That’s good, right? You guys need to go to class. I can always call if anything happens,” Dawn said as she absently picked at her food.
She didn’t admit that she didn’t want them there, that she wanted the house and Buffy to herself.
Tara didn’t seem entirely convinced.
“Are you sure sweetie? Willow and I can stay. We can skip one class, it’s not a big deal.”
Willow interjected. “But we were planning to check out that new mystical bazaar we found. Anya wanted us to check for potential suppliers, remember? And I really need to find that item. We’ll just be gone for a few hours. Buffy’s only been sleeping; I don’t think anything too serious is going to happen. And even if it does, Dawn can contact us immediately, or Xander. You’ll be fine, right Dawnie?”
Dawn nodded her head confidently. “Totally. It’s not as if I’m eight or something; I can handle a few hours in the middle of the day in my locked house.”
“It’s settled then!” Willow said.
Tara looked to Dawn solemnly. “You’re sure?”
“Perfectly sure.”
Willow smiled at her. “Thanks, Dawnie. This is really important.”
She picked up her bag and prepared to leave.
“Come on Tara,” She said, beckoning to her girlfriend. “We gotta get going.”
Tara rose as well, leaving Dawn with one last assurance. “We’ll come straight back if you need anything, ok? Don’t be afraid to call.”
Dawn nodded. “I promise.”
Tara bent over and kissed Dawn on the forehead and followed Willow out the door. T
he slam of the door behind them signaled Dawn’s solitude.
It was only after a couple of hours of watching television that Dawn found that the hand that had been wrapped around the remote was now encasing the shiny brass metal attached to Buffy’s door. She knocked lightly with her other hand, half-hoping that Buffy didn’t hear it. Should she go in? After a held breath of a pause she inched open the door. A thin stream of light cut a beam through the darkness as it cast itself along the floor. There was almost no other illumination. Only a faint glow seeping through the drawn curtains hinted at the day outside. Dawn waited another moment, listening for any acknowledgement of her intrusion before peeking in her head around the doorframe.
“Buffy?” She whispered, searching for her sister’s form as she entered.
There she was, asleep in her bed. She was still, with her covers almost completely undisturbed as they lay over her like a shroud. No creases, no wrinkles, no hint of shifting or readjusting; just a blank face and a motionless body. Dawn refused to acknowledge the images and connotations that welled up in her mind. She crouched down to the floor, sitting Indian style as she rested her head against the doorframe. She studied Buffy. Studied the shade of her hair created by the dim lighting, the shadows that fell across her face, the miniscule movement of her chest that proved that she did breathe. She reassured herself of the evidence before her, of the presence of that bed’s occupant. She lost track of how many hours she sat there watching her sister breathe.
That night provided another insomniac experience. The hallway was even darker than the night before. She kept her hand against the wall, using it to guide her and hoping that she wouldn’t trip over anything. As she crossed past Buffy’s door, she heard a faint rustle of movement. She stopped, listening. There was another. A shadow lurked in the corner of her eye. She completely stilled, mentally scrambling for an attack plan that she might need. Was it a burglar? Random demon seeking vengeance? She turned, nearly jumping out of her skin when she bumped into a wall of cool solidity. It cursed something British.
“Spike!” She almost screeched, clutching at her chest as she tried to keep quiet. “What the heck are you doing here!?”
Sure enough, it was Spike, now gently illuminated by an errant beam of moonlight, and looking almost as startled at being found as she was for running into him. He spoke, seeming a bit flustered.
“Uh, nothing, just-”
“Sneaking into my house in the middle of the night and being a total creeper?” She interrupted.
“Not a creeper!” He said defensively “…Just couldn’t sleep.”
Dawn shifted her weight to one hip, crossed her arms, and cocked one eyebrow as she gave him her patented Look of Skepticism.
“Spike, you’re a vampire. You don’t sleep at night. That’s the funny thing about being a nocturnal creature of darkness.”
He shrugged, having the decency to concede that point. “Yeah, alright, I just wanted to…” He paused, avoiding her gaze in favor of picking at his nails and shifting awkwardly.
“What, Spike?” She questioned tartly, hoping he had a good enough excuse for almost making her pee her pajamas.
“Wanted to check up on her, s’all.” He glanced her way, the faint moonlight softening the angles of his face and making the hue of his eyes a more gentle blue. If his blood circulated, there would have probably been a faint blush of embarrassment.
She relaxed her stance at that. “Honestly? I don’t know how she is.” Her expression became troubled. “She’s been sleeping so much. And she doesn’t move at all! It’s almost like she’s-”
Spike stepped forward and placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Bit,” he said, looking into her eyes with an earnest conviction. “She ain’t. Don’t know what she’s going through, but she ain’t dead.”
Dawn glanced over at Buffy’s room. “Dawn,” Spike said, tightening his grip on her shoulder as he made her look at him. “She ain't.”
Dawn shrugged her shoulders and Spike let go. She exhaled heavily, as if she could expel all of her sudden nervous energy. “I know. I know she’s not.” She unconsciously started pacing a few steps, and Spike fluidly moved to accommodate her. Suddenly she stopped and leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms. Her eyes were fixed upon the floor, her expression murky. After a couple of minutes she slid down to the floor, resting her lower back against the wall and leaning forward to place her forehead on her knees.
“Dawn?” Spike questioned, crouching down into a similar position at her side. “You alright?” He hovered protectively.
“It’s so screwed up.” She said, her voice sounding muffled and slightly watery. She sniffed.
He leaned in closer to her. "What's screwed up, luv?"
“Am I screwed up?” She suddenly drew herself up and looked at him, eyes and nose now turning red and runny as she struggled to control the moisture that built up there.
“Am I a colossal freak of nature because I think it’s fricking screwed the hell up that my sister’s alive?” She asked this with utmost sincerity. “Shouldn’t I be happy? …Why can’t I just be happy?”
She looked up to the ceiling and blinked rapidly, hoping so badly that Spike couldn’t see her lip quivering in the dark, but he probably could because of those stupid vampire senses, and she wished so hard that she could just suck it up and stop being a retard.
“I mean, first she’s there, and she’s protecting me and being annoying and saving the world, and then she's not...for the longest time she’s just not, and now oh wait, she is!?”
She looked at him, her eyes wide and teary with incredulity as her voice reached an intensity that bordered on breaking. A high-pitched hiccup-sob escaped before she could hold it back.
There came rustling noises from Willow and Tara’s room, and Dawn gasped in her words, sitting stock still and doing her best to reign in the crying. She didn't dare breathe. Spike's eyes flickered in the direction of their door. They listened for further activity. After a few extended minutes none came, and she let out her breath in a shaky quiver.
“Way to go me. Let’s wake up the whole house,” She whispered, admonishing herself.
She sniffled again, and used the palms of her hands to wipe at her eyes. She glanced over at Spike and immediately looked away again out of mortification.
“Sorry about going all nuclear meltdown on you.” She clutched her arms around her knees and felt awkward. She had cried in front of him plenty of times that summer, but that summer had been a special place, like a suspension in time where what you did didn't matter because it wasn't real. Now that Buffy was back, it was like she was supposed to be real again (had she ever been?) and supposed to be getting older and growing up and being strong. Breaking down in front of Spike's open, accepting eyes didn't seem allowed anymore.
Spike said nothing, just stared at her with a kindness and empathy that she had been told repeatedly vampires couldn’t possess.
Then he said softly, “Come ‘ere, luv.”
He placed a hand on her hair and lowered her head onto his shoulder, gently stroking the strands. “Nothing to apologize for,” He whispered. She sighed as she nestled her face into his leather and let herself not grow up.
Her next waking sensations were the slide of the covers against her skin and the soft rays of daylight illuminating her closed eyelids. She opened them, reveling in the pleasant ache that spread throughout her muscles as she stretched and flexed them. As the drowsy fog lifted from her mind, the first cognitive thought she had was: Wow, I haven’t slept like that in a while. Then as she looked around her room, the next one was: How did I get in my bed?
Sudden remembrances of the night before came to her, and after the initial wave of embarrassment passed, she quickly hypothesized her midnight mode of transportation from the floor of the hallway outside her sister’s room.
Spike. He’d had to endure her soggy cryfest and carry her fat ass back to bed. He was probably trying to remove snot stains from his duster right now. She’d have to get him spicy buffalo wings or something.
She got up, and as she strolled down the hall on her quest for breakfast, her eye couldn’t help but stray to that closed door. Maybe... She stopped in front of it, feet having unconsciously carried her to that spot.
She debated for a second, and then knocked on the door.
“Buffy?”
She opened it. She was surprised to find Buffy sitting in her bed, actually awake. An empty jar of peanut butter lay on the floor next to the bed with a used spoon sticking out of it. She sat Indian style on top of the covers with her back to the dim sunlight filtering through her curtains. In her hands she cradled Mr. Gordo, and though her gaze was on the stuffed pig, Buffy didn’t even seem to be aware that she was holding it.
“Hey Buffy, you’re awake,” Dawn said as she approached the foot of her sister’s bed.
She sat down on the edge and tried to meet her eyes. She smiled gently. “How’re you doing?”
Buffy snapped out of her reverie, finally noticing the presence beside her and letting out a slightly threatened, “What?”
“How are you?”
The Slayer blinked, slightly wrinkling her forehead as one thumb stroked along the plush material of Mr. Gordo’s leg. She didn’t speak for a moment.
“I’m…fine. Ok.” Her words seemed distracted, as if she didn’t fully grasp the question.
Dawn bit her lip and hesitated for a beat.
“It’s nice to see you,” She said, venturing to reach out and cover her sister’s hand with her own. Buffy unconsciously shrank away from the touch. Dawn quickly retracted her hand and continued,
“You haven’t been around the house much.”
She waited for a response, but Buffy didn’t attempt to keep the conversation going. She tried again.
“Have you been doing much, besides sleeping?”
Buffy glided her thumb over Gordo’s hoof, still not looking at Dawn, though this time she answered.
“…No…not really…”
“Oh,” Was all Dawn said, and she now took the opportunity to study her sibling.
Though not as prominent as before, dark circles still lay under Buffy’s eyes, and she looked so much older to Dawn than she ever had before. She must have found an opportunity since Dawn saw her last to change her clothes, because she now wore a T-shirt as worn and baggy as the sweatpants beneath it. Dawn’s gaze fell to her hair, and she noticed how stringy and greasy it appeared to be. She reached out to touch it, but then decided against it.
“Hey Buffy, have you, um…showered…at all yet?”
Buffy looked a little surprised at her. Her hand wandered up to her hair and she brushed through it, feeling the texture as she rubbed a few oily strands between her thumb and forefinger. Dawn saw that there was still dirt underneath her nails and that scabs had formed over her knuckles.
Now it was Buffy’s turn to say, “Oh.”
“Do you want to do that?” Dawn asked and stood up, grasping at the opportunity. “I can get the bathroom ready for you, if you want. Wouldn’t a hot bath be nice, Buffy?”
Buffy’s hand descended and rejoined her other in holding Mr. Gordo. She thought about it.
“Okay.” She said quietly.
Dawn smiled at her. “Cool. I don’t think there are any towels in the closet, so I’ll just grab one from downstairs and then meet you in the bathroom, ok?”
Buffy nodded.
“Alright, I’ll be right back.”
A faint sense of relief filled Dawn as she treaded down the stairs to the laundry room. She was actually getting Buffy to do something. It only took her a few seconds to rifle around the dryer for a towel, and a couple of minutes later she was back upstairs. But when she went to the bathroom, she was confused to find it empty. She went back to Buffy’s room and found that she hadn’t moved from the position Dawn had left her in. She came to stand before her and bent down a little to try to meet her eyes, her own shining with concern.
“Hey, I thought you were going to take a bath? I got your towel right here.”
Buffy looked up at her, blinking a few times and slightly shaking her head as if she was trying to clear her mind. “Oh, right.”
Dawn waited. Buffy still didn’t move. Ok, new plan.
“Um, here, why don’t we put this right…there,” Dawn said as she carefully lifted Mr. Gordo out of Buffy’s hands and placed him next to her on the bedspread. She thought about it for a moment, then reached out and cupped her hand under Buffy’s elbow, saying, “Come on, you need to tell me what shampoo and stuff you want,” as she gently encouraged the Slayer to stand.
Buffy surprisingly obliged and followed Dawn as she led her out into the hallway and down to the bathroom. Once there, Dawn immediately went about collecting the necessary toiletries as Buffy sat down on the closed toilet.
Dawn opened the cabinet beneath the sink, searching through it for the materials she needed and describing them as she laid them out on the counter.
“Let’s see what shampoo we have… Ok, there’s strawberry…and lavender…They’re Willow and Tara’s, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you used some. I’m pretty sure there’s some mango-kiwi left…”
She began to dig deeper toward the back. “I think there’s and old bottle back here that’s…” Her hand reemerged from the dark interior of the cabinet, bearing the bottle in question.
“...Vanilla..." Buffy said, softly enough that her sister didn't catch it.
Dawn turned to Buffy, gesturing at the line of shampoo bottles as a game show host’s assistant would at a selection of prizes.
“So…want anything in particular?”
Buffy stared at the collection of shampoos, but Dawn wasn’t completely sure if her question really registered.
“Uh, we’ll just go with vanilla then.”
She put the other bottles away, and brought the chosen shampoo, along with conditioner and body wash, over to the bathtub and set them up along the edge. Dawn double-checked that she had gotten everything before she addressed Buffy again.
“I put your towel on the counter there. If there’s anything else you need, let me know, Ok? I’ll be downstairs.”
Buffy nodded.
Dawn paused, debating whether she should say anything else. Will you please talk to me? What’s wrong with you? Is this my fault?
Instead all she said was,
“Um, bye then.”
She gave Buffy one last glance and then left.
It wasn’t until after almost an hour of watching TV that Dawn ventured upstairs again and caught Buffy just as she was retreating into her room. She had put the T-shirt and sweatpants back on, and though her hair looked wet, it didn’t appear that clean.
“Hey Buffy,” Dawn said as she approached the Slayer. “How was your bath?”
There was a slight jerk of her shoulders as Buffy became aware of her presence and turned to face her. She kept her hand securely wrapped around her doorknob.
“...Fine...going to take a nap.”
Dawn frowned. “You’ve been sleeping a lot already," She said as she stepped closer to her, forcing herself not to give in to urge of grabbing her sister's arm and trying to keep her from ever entering that room again.
Buffy hunched against the door.
“Yeah, I’m just tired.”
Dawn stepped back, quietly clenching her hands. “Oh…ok then.”
Buffy slipped inside and closed the door.
Dawn had to go back to school the next day. The hallways felt too lonely and empty and too cramped and confined all at once. People sometimes looked at her, wondering who the new girl was and why she started so late. Some classmates who had gone to middle school with her remembered vague stories from the year before and were eager to satisfy curious ears.
“…She seemed cool to me, but I always heard that she was a little weird…”
“…And then her mom died and she totally freaked out in front of everyone! It was crazy! I didn’t see it, but my friend did…”
“…She cut herself all the time and once she was in the hospital for a few days because she tried to commit suicide…”
“…I don’t know, I think her sister’s in a gang or something…”
She sat by herself. She didn’t try to make friends. She just spaced out through each class and dug her pen into the paper of her notebook, drawing jagged lines that cut through page after page.
Xander drove her home. He was friendly, and tried to make casual conversation with general questions like, “How was your day?” and “Do you like your classes?” and “Are you sure none of your teachers are demon bug-ladies?” and “Did you make sure the jello was safe?”
Dawn gave him the usual replies, like “Fine” and “Yeah” and “Yes, Anya gave me that demon-detecting charm” and “I don’t trust their jello anyway”.
Xander went on to tell her about the new contract his construction company got and all the fun times that can be had dry-walling, and though she knew that he was just trying to help and make her feel comfortable because times were weird, Dawn found herself mostly tuning him out.
“…So then I dropped by the house before I came to get you, and Willow told me that she spent some time with Buffy today while you were at school.”
That immediately got her attention.
“Really? Buffy was around the house today?” She went out of her room?
“Yep. Will said that she came down to grab something to eat and that they ended up talking for a little while. Had an actual conversation, even.”
Xander smiled warmly at her. “See? Our old Buffster’s already starting to come around, what with the human interaction, and extended sentences, and everything! Isn’t that great?”
Dawn stared out the window, watching the trees and sidewalk pass by. She allowed herself a small feeling of hope.
“Yeah, that is.”
Willow was there by the staircase when Dawn entered the house. Xander honked goodbye, and both girls waved as he drove off. A welcoming smile spread across Willow's face as she came forward to greet the young brunette.
“Hey Dawnie! How was your first day? No possessed puppets or anything, right?”
Dawn gave a distracted shake of her head as she glanced around.
“No, no demony things. Just high school stuff.”
She leaned to the side as she tried to look past Willow and up the stairs.
“Xander said that you saw Buffy today?” Dawn hinted, trying not to sound too forward.
Willow followed her gaze to the top of the stairway, and then made a face of recognition.
“Oh yeah! She came down earlier and we talked for a bit. She seems better than before.”
The redhead paused for a moment, then wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Well, she was a little bit grumpy, but that’s probably because she was hungry.”
Dawn gestured upward. “So she’s…”
“In her room. You can go see her if you want. Maybe tell her how your day went?”
Dawn was already had her foot on the first step and was moving past Willow.
“Yeah, I think I’ll do that…”
It was déjà vu all over again as Dawn knocked on the door and called,
“Buffy?”
The curtains were partially open this time, allowing the warm glow of the late afternoon sun to light the room. Buffy sat on her bed, one leg dangling off the side and the other bent in front of her as she sharpened a small blade.
“Going slaying tonight?” Dawn asked as she leaned against the doorframe.
Buffy looked up from her work, and saw Dawn standing there. She looked down at her weapon.
“I was thinking about it. Haven’t done it since…” She trailed off, and Dawn thought about when the last time she slayed really was. She tried to change to subject.
“So, I heard you talked to Willow today. She said it was nice to see you.”
Buffy acknowledged this with a slight nod. She continued working with her blade and sharpening tools. She didn’t seem interested in talking about it.
Dawn stepped farther into the room, trying to regain Buffy’s attention.
“Today was my first day at school,” Dawn hinted. Did you like it? Did you get a top locker? Want me to beat up anyone for you?
Buffy remained distracted by her task at hand.
“…Nothing exciting happened though. Not much to tell.”
Buffy nodded faintly as she examined her blade’s shine. Dawn gave up on that, and began gazing around the room. As she wandered over to the bed, something caught her eye. There, half-hidden beneath it, was something pink and fuzzy. She reached down to pick it up. A moment later Dawn found herself holding a headless Mr. Gordo with stuffing coming his torn hole of a neck, his little piggy innards spilling out.
She held him up before Buffy, eyes wide as she asked for an explanation.
“Buffy, what happened to Mr. Gordo?”
Buffy stilled.
“I was sharpening my axe earlier. It was an accident.” She said sharply, gesturing to the axe in question that rested up against the wall.
“Maybe you should put your weapons in the chest downstairs,” Dawn said cautiously as she moved toward the axe to pick it up.
“Willow told me she was the one who brought me back,” Buffy blurted out.
Dawn started, looking at the Slayer in surprise.
“What?” She asked
“Nothing,” Buffy said, looking away from Dawn.
Dawn bit her lip, looking down, then up again. “…Buffy, are you ok?”
“I’m fine,” She said brusquely. Buffy wouldn’t meet her gaze.
Dawn swallowed, and drew her eyes to the floor. She paused, then said in a voice that came out harder than she intended, “…Do you wish she hadn’t?”
Buffy whipped her head up to her, saying, “What? Dawn-”
“Why won’t you talk to me?!” She interrupted, coming to stand before her sister, finally speaking, finally demanding answers.
“You’ve been acting so weird! I don’t know anything about hell dimensions, but maybe saying something about it, acknowledging it, would help!”
Buffy’s demeanor suddenly grew darker, her eyebrows drawn down and her voice becoming harsher as she said, “Dawn-”
Dawn sat down next to her and met her eyes with a pleading look. Just look at me, just tell me.
“Do you hate being here?” She asked, her eyes watering. “With me?”
She blinked her eyes and swallowed. “I’m sorry,” She said quietly. “I tried. I tried so hard to be strong and grown-up and alone when you weren’t here, but I couldn’t. I’m so horrible at it you have no idea. And it seemed so long and I thought, 'Now it will always be like this', and that was so scary. But now you’re here, and I can touch you, but you won’t let me, or talk to me, and I don’t know what to do!”
She sniffled, wiping furiously at her eyes and feeling ashamed.
“I know this is all my fault,” she whispered. “But I can’t handle it. I’m sorry.” I'm sorry I'm weak, I'm sorry you're hurt, I'm sorry I don't know what to do, I'm sorry because you shouldn't have died for me.
She sniffled more and concentrated on the stitching in her jeans. She just couldn't control her eyes. The tears dropped down and down and she couldn't see anything. Suddenly she felt gentle fingers stroking her hair. She looked up at Buffy, whose own eyes had become red and glassy.
“Dawnie,” She said softly. “This isn’t your fault. It’s not your fault.”
Dawn hid her face in Buffy’s neck and cried like she had wanted to the entire summer as her big sister finally held her again.
The next morning Dawn briskly headed out the door for her second day of school. She had descended the steps and was walking up to the street when she heard Buffy call out behind her.
“Dawn!”
Dawn turned around to see her sister rushing out after her.
“What’s wrong?” She said, slightly alarmed.
Buffy caught up to her and presented her with a brown paper bag.
“Lunch,” She said.
A sentimental smile spread across Dawn’s face as she took it.
“You made me lunch?” A warm little feeling grew in her heart. “Wow. Thanks.”
A sudden seriousness came over Buffy’s face. “You better go. You've been out enough since ... I got back. And you know what they say. Those of us who fail history? Doomed to repeat it in summer school.”
They exchanged small smiles. Dawn enveloped her in a heartfelt hug. Buffy returned it.
“Thank you,” Dawn whispered. “I’ll see you later?”
Buffy nodded.
“Yup.”
Dawn waved her final farewell as she departed. She didn’t see the blank expression that overtook her sister’s face once she had turned her back.
As she walked through the halls of her school that day, a little less empty, a little less confining, her mind turned back to one exchange she had had with Spike during that long, long summer.
“What’s going to happen now?” She had asked, desperate for any answer, even if it was empty, even if she knew it wasn’t true.
He had put his arm around her shoulder, trying to comfort her with the weight of his touch, and just responded, “Don’t right know myself.”