![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
The Impossible
Title: The Impossible
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Characters/Pairing: Dawn, Xander, Ensemble Minus Giles
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge/Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tv_universe: #410: Uncle Walt (Quote Used: "It's kind of fun to do the impossible.") ((If you join, tell them Kat Lee of Team Bunny Ears sent you!))
Word Count: 1,708
Warnings: Angst, Cannon Character Death
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters belong to their rightful owners, not the author.
She used to think doing the impossible was fun. When she was little, she'd make outrageous bets with her daddy, like she couldn't literally stick her foot in her mouth or eat the most ice cream without getting a brain freeze, and she learned early on to make sure she won the bets because winning was simply so much fun. She set herself what seemed outrageous goals: beating an impossible score at the local arcade, presenting a better report than the teacher's pet, getting kissed before Buffy, riding every ride in Disneyland in a single weekend. The more times she won, the more fun she had.
And yet . . . Yet, she knows now that none of that stuff really happened. She's never really been kissed by a boy, except for that one Vampire boy which totally didn't count because he wanted to eat her, not date her. She's never even been to Disneyland. She never held her mother's hand when she was little or went to school anywhere other than SunnyHell. She's never even seen her father, but then, he isn't really her father at all.
Joyce isn't her mother, and Buffy isn't really her sister. But it doesn't feel that way, especially not now, especially not since she's lost both of them. She stares at the place where it happened, alone at night, having slipped out of her house that no longer feels like a home, real or pretend, having gone unnoticed by all those who are so bent on protecting her into the streets of Sunnydale. She'd hoped that the impossible would happen again -- that she would slip by all of her protectors and get attacked by a Vampire. She won't even fight tonight, if it would just happen. She only wants to die.
She only wants this pain to end. It isn't right, to feel such hurt over something that isn't even supposed to be real. She is the impossible. She's a thing that shouldn't exist, a girl that doesn't really exist. She's a figment that some type of Watchers club created and sent to Buffy to protect. And she did.
Her sister -- she knows she shouldn't call her that but she can't help thinking of her as anything less -- did the impossible every night since her fifteenth birthday. She slayed creatures that modern science told them didn't exist, and she saved the world far more times than just "a lot" as they put on her gravestone. She saved her by doing the impossible again. She leapt willingly to her death in a vortex that wasn't supposed to be there, a portal that would never have been created if not for Dawn's blood, if not for the blood of a thing that isn't supposed to exist but yet does.
Tears sting Dawn's eyes. This time, this one night all by herself, she doesn't try to stop them. She lets them fall. She's let them pour like rain down her quietly sobbing face and thinks of all the times Buffy was there for her, all the times she made her smile, all the times she showed her her love -- and all the times she did all of that and more but never really did.
She sees her leap again and again in her mind, and she knows it shouldn't have happened. Portals and Demon Goddesses and people being keys and not really people . . . None of it should be possible. None of it should be real. Her sister should still be here, living a normal life, not having to fight evil every night, not having to give her life to save hers.
Dawn hangs her head, silently weeping, and wishes with all her heart that the impossible really isn't possible, that Demons, Vampires, and vortexes that don't exist. She wishes even that she didn't exist because she knows if she hadn't been here, if Buffy hadn't believed she had a little sister to save, she might not have jumped to her death. If she wasn't here, if she wasn't alive when she was a thing that should never have known life, her sister would still be alive.
"She would've done it any way, pet," a soft, British voice she knows well speaks. His cigarette flares in the darkness. "Don't get me wrong. She loved you, but she still would've done it to save the world. That's how your big sis was. She'd complain and complain about all the sacrifices she had to make, but in the end, she always did the right thing." No matter, he thinks to himself, who was left hurting.
"But . . . " Dawn gasps through her tears to be able to talk. Her chest hurts so that it's a struggle right now even to breathe. "But she wasn't my sister! Not really. I'm not supposed to exist."
"Oh, Dawnie." She knows that voice well, too, the voice of both her and Buffy's best friend, the voice of reason, the voice that always tried to reach her through all the hurt and pain in her world. Willow tries to take her into her arms, but she doesn't go. She doesn't fight her, either; she simply stays how she is, having dropped to her knees when exactly she doesn't know and trembling slightly with her flood of tears.
"You do exist." The calm voice belongs to Tara. Dawn doesn't dare look at her. She knows she's holding back tears, too, and seeing her hurting will just make her cry more. None of them can pretend this didn't happen for, out of all the impossible things in their world that are real, this is the most undeniably real thing, and the most hurtful.
"I'm not supposed to."
"Maybe not. Maybe you're not supposed to be here. Maybe you're not supposed to be her sister."
"Xander!" Willow hisses.
Dawn shakes her head. "It's okay. He's right. I'm not supposed to exist, and if I wasn't here, she wouldn't be dead now!" She wails again before she can stop herself. She used to try so hard to be cool in front of Xander, but the appearance of a thing that exists when it shouldn't can't possibly matter.
"But then, too, maybe you were never supposed to be whatever key thing you were. Maybe the monks made you what you always supposed to be: Buffy's little sister. Our friend."
He moves pass Spike to lay a gentle hand on her tiny shoulder and kneels beside her and Willow. Dawn remembers, fleetingly, how cool she used to think all of these people around her were because they did the impossible. Spike was a cool Vampire who was trying to be good, and Willow and Tara did magic to help her sister defeat evil. Xander stood beside them all, helping where he could, helping to defeat evil when he was nothing more than a normal human, like she thought she was back then. But they're not cool any more, not because of the impossible things they are or do. They're her friends. They were Buffy's friends, and they lost her, too. They're hurting almost as much as she is, and yet, here they are, trying to cheer her, trying to comfort her when the thought of ever being okay again is the most impossible thing she can imagine yet.
She lets Xander touch her. Willow's rubbing her back while his hand is on her shoulder. Then his other hand touches her chin. She lets him make her eyes meet his before he tells her, "I don't know, Dawnie." He shakes his head. "I don't know what you were really supposed to be, but I know Buffy loved you. Real or not, human or key, she loved you for you, and just like she told you before, even if you weren't really born, even if you were made, you're still her sister. She loved you when she died for you. She loved you before, and wherever she is now, whatever she's doing, I know she still loves you. So do you, really."
"But she shouldn't -- "
"Love hurts, kiddo. Maybe none of us should love, because it does hurt a lot. But we do it any way. We fall in love without trying. We love each other as friends, as family. Just like she loved you."
"Spike's right, though. She would've died any way."
Spike flashes his fangs at Anya from around his cigarette; she just shrugs. "It's the truth."
"Yeah," Xander agrees. "Buffy would've died any way, but at least this way, she died saving the person she loved the most."
"But what if I'm not a person?" Dawn asks, her bottom lip trembling.
He shrugs. "So what if you're not? She still loved you most of all."
That's all it takes for Dawn to finish breaking. She falls into Xander's waiting arms, crying her out for all the things she remembers that are real and all the things that aren't. Doing the impossible isn't fun. Life isn't fun, and love does hurt. But what makes life worth living, what makes everything real, is the loving you do and share along the way. Maybe she isn't real. Maybe she shouldn't be real. But Buffy's love for her, and hers for her, will always be.
Xander holds her and rocks her gently and quietly. He doesn't bother with shushing sounds, because he knows she needs to cry. She needs to let all of her emotions out. It's hard enough for them all, but each one of them has lost before. Each one of them is used to dealing with the complicated emotions of human life, but Dawnie's never felt like this before. He hopes, for her sake, that she never has to again.
Willow stands, and the other four back away, giving Dawn room to cry and Xander room to hold her and secretly, silently, cry, as well. As they look back over at them, Spike's cigarette again flares. "I didn't know the Zeppo had it in him."
"I do," Willow whispers, and yet, she has the strangest feeling, that this isn't the only time Xander's words of wisdom will save the day. She turns, taking Tara's hand in hers, and heads quietly home.
The End
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Characters/Pairing: Dawn, Xander, Ensemble Minus Giles
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge/Prompt:
tv_universe: #410: Uncle Walt (Quote Used: "It's kind of fun to do the impossible.") ((If you join, tell them Kat Lee of Team Bunny Ears sent you!))Word Count: 1,708
Warnings: Angst, Cannon Character Death
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters belong to their rightful owners, not the author.
She used to think doing the impossible was fun. When she was little, she'd make outrageous bets with her daddy, like she couldn't literally stick her foot in her mouth or eat the most ice cream without getting a brain freeze, and she learned early on to make sure she won the bets because winning was simply so much fun. She set herself what seemed outrageous goals: beating an impossible score at the local arcade, presenting a better report than the teacher's pet, getting kissed before Buffy, riding every ride in Disneyland in a single weekend. The more times she won, the more fun she had.
And yet . . . Yet, she knows now that none of that stuff really happened. She's never really been kissed by a boy, except for that one Vampire boy which totally didn't count because he wanted to eat her, not date her. She's never even been to Disneyland. She never held her mother's hand when she was little or went to school anywhere other than SunnyHell. She's never even seen her father, but then, he isn't really her father at all.
Joyce isn't her mother, and Buffy isn't really her sister. But it doesn't feel that way, especially not now, especially not since she's lost both of them. She stares at the place where it happened, alone at night, having slipped out of her house that no longer feels like a home, real or pretend, having gone unnoticed by all those who are so bent on protecting her into the streets of Sunnydale. She'd hoped that the impossible would happen again -- that she would slip by all of her protectors and get attacked by a Vampire. She won't even fight tonight, if it would just happen. She only wants to die.
She only wants this pain to end. It isn't right, to feel such hurt over something that isn't even supposed to be real. She is the impossible. She's a thing that shouldn't exist, a girl that doesn't really exist. She's a figment that some type of Watchers club created and sent to Buffy to protect. And she did.
Her sister -- she knows she shouldn't call her that but she can't help thinking of her as anything less -- did the impossible every night since her fifteenth birthday. She slayed creatures that modern science told them didn't exist, and she saved the world far more times than just "a lot" as they put on her gravestone. She saved her by doing the impossible again. She leapt willingly to her death in a vortex that wasn't supposed to be there, a portal that would never have been created if not for Dawn's blood, if not for the blood of a thing that isn't supposed to exist but yet does.
Tears sting Dawn's eyes. This time, this one night all by herself, she doesn't try to stop them. She lets them fall. She's let them pour like rain down her quietly sobbing face and thinks of all the times Buffy was there for her, all the times she made her smile, all the times she showed her her love -- and all the times she did all of that and more but never really did.
She sees her leap again and again in her mind, and she knows it shouldn't have happened. Portals and Demon Goddesses and people being keys and not really people . . . None of it should be possible. None of it should be real. Her sister should still be here, living a normal life, not having to fight evil every night, not having to give her life to save hers.
Dawn hangs her head, silently weeping, and wishes with all her heart that the impossible really isn't possible, that Demons, Vampires, and vortexes that don't exist. She wishes even that she didn't exist because she knows if she hadn't been here, if Buffy hadn't believed she had a little sister to save, she might not have jumped to her death. If she wasn't here, if she wasn't alive when she was a thing that should never have known life, her sister would still be alive.
"She would've done it any way, pet," a soft, British voice she knows well speaks. His cigarette flares in the darkness. "Don't get me wrong. She loved you, but she still would've done it to save the world. That's how your big sis was. She'd complain and complain about all the sacrifices she had to make, but in the end, she always did the right thing." No matter, he thinks to himself, who was left hurting.
"But . . . " Dawn gasps through her tears to be able to talk. Her chest hurts so that it's a struggle right now even to breathe. "But she wasn't my sister! Not really. I'm not supposed to exist."
"Oh, Dawnie." She knows that voice well, too, the voice of both her and Buffy's best friend, the voice of reason, the voice that always tried to reach her through all the hurt and pain in her world. Willow tries to take her into her arms, but she doesn't go. She doesn't fight her, either; she simply stays how she is, having dropped to her knees when exactly she doesn't know and trembling slightly with her flood of tears.
"You do exist." The calm voice belongs to Tara. Dawn doesn't dare look at her. She knows she's holding back tears, too, and seeing her hurting will just make her cry more. None of them can pretend this didn't happen for, out of all the impossible things in their world that are real, this is the most undeniably real thing, and the most hurtful.
"I'm not supposed to."
"Maybe not. Maybe you're not supposed to be here. Maybe you're not supposed to be her sister."
"Xander!" Willow hisses.
Dawn shakes her head. "It's okay. He's right. I'm not supposed to exist, and if I wasn't here, she wouldn't be dead now!" She wails again before she can stop herself. She used to try so hard to be cool in front of Xander, but the appearance of a thing that exists when it shouldn't can't possibly matter.
"But then, too, maybe you were never supposed to be whatever key thing you were. Maybe the monks made you what you always supposed to be: Buffy's little sister. Our friend."
He moves pass Spike to lay a gentle hand on her tiny shoulder and kneels beside her and Willow. Dawn remembers, fleetingly, how cool she used to think all of these people around her were because they did the impossible. Spike was a cool Vampire who was trying to be good, and Willow and Tara did magic to help her sister defeat evil. Xander stood beside them all, helping where he could, helping to defeat evil when he was nothing more than a normal human, like she thought she was back then. But they're not cool any more, not because of the impossible things they are or do. They're her friends. They were Buffy's friends, and they lost her, too. They're hurting almost as much as she is, and yet, here they are, trying to cheer her, trying to comfort her when the thought of ever being okay again is the most impossible thing she can imagine yet.
She lets Xander touch her. Willow's rubbing her back while his hand is on her shoulder. Then his other hand touches her chin. She lets him make her eyes meet his before he tells her, "I don't know, Dawnie." He shakes his head. "I don't know what you were really supposed to be, but I know Buffy loved you. Real or not, human or key, she loved you for you, and just like she told you before, even if you weren't really born, even if you were made, you're still her sister. She loved you when she died for you. She loved you before, and wherever she is now, whatever she's doing, I know she still loves you. So do you, really."
"But she shouldn't -- "
"Love hurts, kiddo. Maybe none of us should love, because it does hurt a lot. But we do it any way. We fall in love without trying. We love each other as friends, as family. Just like she loved you."
"Spike's right, though. She would've died any way."
Spike flashes his fangs at Anya from around his cigarette; she just shrugs. "It's the truth."
"Yeah," Xander agrees. "Buffy would've died any way, but at least this way, she died saving the person she loved the most."
"But what if I'm not a person?" Dawn asks, her bottom lip trembling.
He shrugs. "So what if you're not? She still loved you most of all."
That's all it takes for Dawn to finish breaking. She falls into Xander's waiting arms, crying her out for all the things she remembers that are real and all the things that aren't. Doing the impossible isn't fun. Life isn't fun, and love does hurt. But what makes life worth living, what makes everything real, is the loving you do and share along the way. Maybe she isn't real. Maybe she shouldn't be real. But Buffy's love for her, and hers for her, will always be.
Xander holds her and rocks her gently and quietly. He doesn't bother with shushing sounds, because he knows she needs to cry. She needs to let all of her emotions out. It's hard enough for them all, but each one of them has lost before. Each one of them is used to dealing with the complicated emotions of human life, but Dawnie's never felt like this before. He hopes, for her sake, that she never has to again.
Willow stands, and the other four back away, giving Dawn room to cry and Xander room to hold her and secretly, silently, cry, as well. As they look back over at them, Spike's cigarette again flares. "I didn't know the Zeppo had it in him."
"I do," Willow whispers, and yet, she has the strangest feeling, that this isn't the only time Xander's words of wisdom will save the day. She turns, taking Tara's hand in hers, and heads quietly home.
The End