Wednesday, May 2
Rating: PG-13 (language, adult concepts)
Summary: Dawn's diary, 8 years after the close of the Hellmouth
Author's Note: I know this chapter was a long time coming, and that it's pitifully short. There will be another chapter (a longer one, with Anitaverse characters) coming along very shortly. It's taken me a long while to figure out what I wanted to happen plot-wise with this one, and then how I was going to be able to tell that story in the format I'd chosen. So, there will be more.
And apologies to all fans of Xander. I don't like the guy much. I don't think he's out of character here. If you do, feel free to read something else.
Wednesday, May 2
Remember Joe? Vampire, sunlight scars, owned a sleazy dive in the Blood Quarter? Gave me a job when nobody else would, probably killed the guy who tried to rape me? Or else just pulled out his teeth, but anyway, there was vengeance involved.
Also the guy I hadn't talked to in three years, because I guess I just got too fucking good for that part of town or something.
Well, he's dead. In the bombings. They didn't hit the bar, I would have heard about that sooner, so I'm not actually sure how it happened. One of the guys who used to wait tables there ran into Dru today and told her - otherwise, I guess I would never have figured it out, because it's not like I had plans to drop by for a beer one morning. Not like I had plans to, you know, ever speak to him again. Because I'm all respectable and educated and all that fucking bullshit now. Because I am in such a better place in my life now that I can forget all about - shit. Okay, this is gonna get illegible soon, 'cause I'm crying all over the fucking page. Just - shit. I'm gonna go now.
Well, isn't it just my day for introspection? Have I mentioned how much I really hate people sometimes?
Xander dropped by. Buffy evidently called him. She wasn't here when he was here, she'd taken Billy out shopping, which was good, because I always get weird around Buffy and Xander together. Like, there's a sign stamped on my forehead that says "I screwed around with your friend". Or more like there's a sign on *his* forehead, 'cause he's the one she'd beat the crap out of, not me. I'm still baby Dawnie, which is the whole problem.
It was after the Hellmouth; after Anya died, and Spike died, and the world as we knew it died. We all went to England, and there were multitudes of Slayers, and then Buffy was pregnant, and Giles and Willow were trying to rebuild the Watcher's Council, and Faith and Robin stayed in New York, and . . it was like everybody had something going on, and the two of us, we were both just sitting around waiting. That's what it felt like. Waiting. If you asked me what we were waiting for, I couldn't tell you. Maybe I'm still waiting for it. Now isn't that just fucking deep? Whatever.
Point being, we sorta bonded over our mutual pointlessness. And things just happened. It was .. nice. Good. Absolutely wonderful compared to, you know, being raped by Angelus or having your lover lose his soul. Then he apologized, and I slapped him, and it never happened again, and things were even weirder and lonelier than before. Buffy doesn't know. Obviously. Duh.
And the part before he started acting liked it was child molesting was pretty much everything I could have wanted. I try to talk myself into remembering just that part, just the good. Like I had this one perfect experience - if a bunch of monks can just pull my whole life out of their asses, why can't I make my memories what I want them to be?
Because I just can't, because the world just sucks. Anyway, Xander hung around and was weird and quiet and not there, until Billie was about six months old, until we figured out about her needing blood. And then Buffy went on her name kick, and I started talking about the book, and Xander got pissed off. It was no big thing at first, I took it for just typical macho stuff, but then it got freaky. He was pissed off at Spike for how Billie was, is the nearest I've ever been able to figure it out. Like, it was Spike's fault that the kid couldn't go outside in full daylight because they should have practiced safe sex and made her never exist at all. Like that makes some kind of sense.
Or maybe it does to people who don't work the IUP, and weren't made by a bunch of monks. But it pissed me the hell off then, and it pisses me off more now. Like, because she's not all perfectly human, she shouldn't be at all. Like it was some sort of crime for Spike to reproduce. But he didn't say any of this shit in front of Buffy because in his warped little world, Buffy was the victim too. Because Buffy had to be perfect. I thought he was acting like he'd regressed to 10th grade, and I told him so. And shortly after, he left. He and Buffy kept in touch. She keeps asking me why I don't write to him.
And then she just invited him here, without even asking me or understanding any of this crap, which I guess is my own damned fault for being too chickenshit to ever tell her. But you know what, it's her fault too for .. well, for how I think she'd react. If I ever told her, which I haven't. So I don't actually know how she'd react. Which would make it my fault. But she still could have not invited him over in the middle of the day which is when I *sleep*, and she knows this.
But anyway, he was all civil and hi and how are you, for a little while, and said it really sucked about my apartment, and it was almost like we were a pair of real live civilized grown-ups. Then in the telling him how I was, I started mentioning Dru. And he started making these little comments about how I'd be safer without her. And making jokes about my job that I'm sure he thought were funny. They weren't derogatory about me, just about my patients, which is more likely to make me want to stab your eyeballs out with a spork than anything you could possibly say about me.
And then there was the screaming match from hell, over everything from vampire babies to sex with seventeen-year-olds, in which we determined that I'm a moral failure and he's a bigoted asshole. It was all kinds of productive (please note the sarcasm). Then he made some comment about how he knew how the bombers felt. Then I told him to get out of my house. He said he didn't mean it. I said I did.
Then Buffy came home, right about the time he was pulling out of the driveway, and asked if that had been Xander leaving, and I said no. Then I went to bed and cried.
And now it's three in the afternoon, which is like the middle of the night for me, and my eyes are all swollen and I can't fall asleep, and I think I'm out of things to say. It's not fair. I mean, who did Joe piss off in his past life? Or Billie?