One Sister Coming Right Up!
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter stuff, not mine. Buffy stuff, not mine.
SUMMARY: HP/BtVS. Dawn Summers is the Key, the Monks made her that; but they needed a vessel to contain it. Now Dawn is starting to remember the vessel’s life and she has to find out who she really is to survive.
RATING: PG for the slightest bit of language and to be on the safe side.
A/N: Everything happened as the series, unless otherwise stated. This chapter jumps around season 5, basically to provide a background.
A Special Thanks to Matt who’s betaing this story for me. FORGOTTEN PAST by Kiara
PROLOGUE: ONE SISTER, COMING RIGHT UP!
*****TEN YEARS EARLIER*****
The silence was disturbed. Two monks were racing down the usually quiet corridor, throwing terrified glances behind them to see if it was gaining on them. It wasn’t…yet.
One of the monks fell, scattering religious items over the stone floor. He hurriedly gathered the candles and incense and was dragged to his feet by his companion. The duo continued their flight down the candlelit hallway until they reached their goal.
The monks careened through a set of massive wooden doors and slammed them shut behind them. They slid a beam the size of a tree trunk across the entrance, but that wouldn’t hold it for long.
As the beam slid home, one of the monks called fearfully to another seated in the centre of the room. “It’s coming! It’s going to kill us!”
“Our lives aren’t important. We have to protect the Key.” He replied in Czech, their native language.
The two monks raced to the center of the great room and joined the third senior member of their order. They knelt on the floor before the most senior monk, around several lit candles and magical talismen. And, most importantly, an ordinary looking terracotta urn which was the current residence of the Key. Over in the corner was another ring of candles that were surrounding a lumpy object that was covered by a white sheet. Slim, about five-and-a-half feet tall...it was clearly a body, though it looked out of place next to the alter.
“The vessel; is it ready?” One of the monks said, with an anxious look over at the sheet.
The senior monk nodded. “It was been found worthy. We found a female who has enough magical potential to hold the power- the ritual will change the vessels appearance so that it best suits the need. We can not risk anyone finding out.”
The two monks who had just entered placed their candles into the circle and one quickly dripped a circle of incense around them.
“We’re ready. Help me perform the ritual.” The senior monk ordered.
All three monks extended their arms and begin chanting. As they spoke the ancient words, a tremendous crash echoed through the monastery and the massive wooden door trembled in its frame.
“Concentrate. Concentrate.” The senior monk admonished, noticing his juniors cast fearful looks over towards the doorway.
They continued chanting. It was working, but would it be in time? A breeze sprung up in the chamber, but the relentless pounding on the door continued, causing the crossbeam to splinter.
Suddenly a bright flash of light leapt from the center of the room. The monks looked around relieved, but that turned to fear as the door finally gave way and shattered causing the candles to blow out and leaving the room in darkness. It was here. *****SIX MONTHS LATER*****
“Where did he learn to write so bloody small, from a fruit fly?” Spike said as he and Dawn read the watchers diary in front of them.
“Wait, here’s something. Uh, Tarnis, 12th century. One of the founders of the monks of the Order of Dagon. Their sole purpose appears to have been as protectors of the Key.”
“Brown-robe types are always protecting something. It’s the only way they can justify giving up girls.” Spike scoffed. He got up and looked around while Dawn clucked her tongue- robes; why did they sound so familiar? Spike spotted Olaf’s troll hammer and tried to pick it up. It fell to the floor with a clang. He shrugged, trying to preserve the tatters of his macho image. He was still the Big Bad. “Didn’t go with my stuff anyway.”
“The key is not directly described in any known literature, but all research indicates an energy matrix vibrating at a dimensional frequency beyond normal human perception. Only those outside reality can see the key’s true nature.” Dawn read. “Outside reality, what does that mean?“
“Mmm... Second-sight blokes, mostly.” Spike answered, putting out his cigarette on one of the items on the shelves even though he knew Demon Girl wouldn't like it. “Or even just your run-of-the-mill lunatics.” Spike went back over to Dawn. “What else does it say about this key? Is it made out of gold? Maybe we can hock it, split the take.”
“Um, the key is also susceptible to necromanced animal detection, particularly those of canine or serpent construct.”
Spike reached over and grabbed the book from Dawn. “The monks possessed the ability to transform energy, bend reality. Blah, blah, blah. Good lord, Giles writes as dull as he talks, doesn’t he? But the Council has suggested to us that they were interrupted… presumably by Glory... They obviously did manage to accomplish the taste. . . " Spike squinted at the book and corrected himself, "accomplish the task. They had to be certain the Slayer would protect it with her life. So they sent the key to her in human form. In the form of a sister".
Spike frowned and looked at Dawn. “Huh! I guess that’s you, Niblet.”
Dawn stared ahead in shock. If she wasn’t Dawn Summers, then who was she?
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dawn asked softly. The party guests had been sent away after her 'episode' and now the three Summers girls were sitting in Dawn’s room. The elder two were understandably worried about the youngest, she had just taken a kitchen knife to herself and in a house where demon attacks here a weekly occurance, they did not need any more injuries to deal with.
“We were going to. I just. . . “ Buffy trailed off as Dawn gave her an angry look. She had a right to know if it was about her.
“We thought it would be better if we waited until you were older.” Joyce said soothingly.
“How old am I now?”
“You’re fourteen, sweetheart, you know that.”
“No. The monks. When did. . . when did they. . . “ Dawn trailed off and looked to Buffy for an answer.
“Six months ago.” Buffy admitted after a pause.
“I’ve only been alive for six months, huh?”
“Honey, you’ve been alive a lot longer than that to us.” Joyce assured her.
“You don’t know that! You don’t know anything. I’m, I’m just a key, right? Everything about me is made up.” Dawn was starting to get angry.
Buffy sat down next to Dawn. “Dawn... Mom and I know what we feel. I know I care about you. I know that I worry about you—“
“You worry about me because you have to. I’m your job. Protect the key, right?” Dawn said a bit spitefully. She was working herself up into a proper state. Nothing would ever be the same again; everything she had ever known was either completely fake or based on a lie.
“I worry because my sister is cutting herself!”
“Yeah? How do you know? Maybe this is just another fake memory from my fake family.”
“You guys don’t need me; you might as well just give me over to Voldemort!”
“Dawn, I- wait, who’s Voldemort?” Buffy asked confused.
“Voldemort?” Dawn felt the edges of a memory receding. “I- what?”
“You said that we might as well give you to Voldemort. It’s Glory who’s after the Key, who’s Voldemort?”
"What?" Dawn shook her head. Why would she have said that? “I don’t know. I said Glory, I meant Glory.”
“Dawn, we’re not going to give you over to Glory or anyone; you’re my sister and-“
“Get out.” Dawn was tired of this.
“Get out, get out, get out!” Dawn’s voice rose to a shriek and Joyce and Buffy obeyed her.
Dawn lay down on the bed and let the tears fall. She reached out and grabbed the bunny that was her equivalent to Mr. Gordo and strictly there for decorative purposes only and held it to her chest. It didn't give her as much comfort as it used to. Now she knew that Buffy hadn't really brought it for her eighth birthday to chase away the monster in the closet. Where had the bunny come from? Was it just magic-ed out of thin air?
Finally she fell into a fitful sleep, full of dreams that she would not remember in the morning. Dreams featuring a red haired stranger and young boy with a mop of unruly black hair.
“Are you okay? Did she hurt you?” Buffy questioned worriedly. No matter what, Dawn was her sister and now it was more important than ever to protect her.
“Why do you care?”
“Because I love you. You’re my sister.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes you are.” She lifted Dawn’s arm, her arm and hand still bloody. “Look, its blood. It’s Summers’ blood.”
Buffy pressed her hand against the wound on her shoulder from the recent fight with Glory, wincing a little. She clasped her bloody hand in Dawn’s bloody hand.
“It’s just like mine. It doesn’t matter where you came from, or, or how you got here. You are my sister.” Buffy continued after a pause. “There’s no way you could annoy me so much if you weren’t.
Dawn hugged her sister tightly. It felt right, no matter where she had come from. “I was so scared.”
Buffy pulled Dawn to her feet. “Come on.”
“Wait. Ben. He was here, he was trying to help me. He. . . I. . . I think he might have left before Glory came.. . I can’t, I can’t remember.” Dawn babbled, making no sense to those around her.
Buffy took her hand again. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Next time we see him, we’ll thank him. I have to get you back home though. Mom’s freaking out.”
Dawn’s eyed widened. “Oh Merlin. Is she mad about the whole fire thing?”
Buffy raised her eyebrows at Dawn’s language, but decided that it was probably ‘middle school slang’ “I think you sorta have a get-out-of-jail-free card on account of big love and trauma.”
“Really? Okay. Good.” Dawn continued after a minute. “You think she’d raise my allowance?”
“Don’t push it.”
“No, no, no.” Dawn Summers tossed and turned in her sleep. She jerked in the bed, mumbling something incomprehensible.
“You think you know who you are, what’s to come…you’ve only just begun.” Tara’s voice echoed in her unconsciousness. It was always Tara, never anyone else. She’d died over eight years ago, but it was always Tara- why was it Tara?
Dawn shot up in her bed drenched in sweat and feeling a bit ridiculous- she was twenty four years old, and still having nightmares, and she wasn’t even living on the hellmouth anymore! As always, she calmed herself down and tried desperately to remember the dream- living with Buffy had taught her never to discount a dream no matter how weird it sounded.
“Come on, come on!” Dawn muttered, her eyes still closed as the final images and sounds of the dream faded. She pushed herself harder to remember.
But it was no use; she couldn’t remember any more than usual, and even those few facts left her very confused and with lots of questions that needed answering.
The problem was that no one knew the answers. She’d asked Giles first, almost a decade ago when the dreams hadn't stopped after a few days. But he had scratched his head, done a bit of research and then put it down to recurring nightmares and too much dairy before bed. It didn't occur to him that he could be researching the wrong community, that there could be a whole other world that’s full of answers. Oh no; that would be just ridiculous.
Willow and Xander had done the same as Giles… well Willow had, Xander had just watched. Buffy had freaked out at first; Dawn was the ‘normal’ sister, she wasn’t supposed to have visions but now, just like everybody else, her big sister thought she was going crazy. Even her mom had thought she was losing it when the strange dreams started, the only reason she wasn’t shipped off to the nearest shrink ten years ago was because both Buffy and Giles were worried it might have something to do with the Key.
They had started when she found out about the Key, and they hadn’t stopped since. She didn’t tell anyone about her dreams anymore, she didn’t like the pitying looks she got; poor Dawnie’s afraid of a little nightmare; but they were still there, and her questions still went unanswered.
Questions like what was an Avada Kedavra? Why did she keep seeing green lights? Why were the men wearing black dresses and ‘Scream’ masks?
And who the hell was Harry Potter?
Do you like it? Sorry about the dullness of the chapter- they will get more interesting and longer.