Disclaimer: I own no-one, nothing, nil, nada. Blah, blah, blah. Joss Whedon owns Dawn, somebody owns Highlander, Queen owns the show must go on, and I think it was written by Freddy Mercury. Done.
A/N. I have no Beta, so please point out any mistakes and I'll fix them. Reviews welcome.
What are we living for?
I guess we know this door.*
The Key stood above the freshly turned patch. She slowly dropped her single red rose onto the mound. Her final tribute to a great hero. It was time to move on.
Another mindless cry?
Behind the curtain, in the pantomime.
Hold the line,
Does anybody know what we are looking for?*
The last slayer. The end of her legacy. Buried upon a Scottish hillside, amongst her sisters of arms. In neat little lines, like the soldiers they truly were. Dawn sighs, and walks from the grave.
Her eyes fall upon a huge memorial in the centre. A huge cross, decorated with carved willow branches, a cartoon dog, a pair of glasses, a railroad spike, a taser blaster, an ornate dagger, small mouse, a bunny, an ornate dagger, and, finally a heart with two stakes crossed through it.
*the show must go on,
The show must go on,
Inside my heart is breaking,
My make-up may be flaking,
But my smile still stays on.*
Tears slowly roll down her cheeks as she stands and reads the plaques around the base of the cross. A silent tribute to those who need no words. Sinking to her knees she scraped the moss off the base of it. Running her fingers over the familiar words engraved in the stone she allows the tears to break out.
“These are the true immortals, though they lie in earth” she reads.
“Will anybody remember you now?” she whispers as she walked from the graveyard. In the vaults of her memory strong arms wrap themselves around her shoulders.
“Aye love, as long as you remember them.” A male voice echoes. Dawn smiled.
“Why me?” she whispers again.
“Why any of us?” the memory asks. Dawn walks the rest of the way home in silence, lost in her thoughts.
Dawn knelt in a small chapel. Before her were dozens of candles. One by one she lit them.
“Buffy, Mom, Tara, Willow, Anya, Xander, Giles, Angel, Riley, Spike, Oz, Cordy, Faith, Kendra, Miss Calendar.” She mourned for her beginnings, memories true and false.
“Kennedy, Annabell, Andrew, all you potentials, the Slayers down the centuries. I wish I had been a better watcher; that more of you had survived.”
* My soul is painted like the wings of a butterfly,
Fairytales of yesterday will grow,
But never die.
I can fly my friend.*
“To all those people I thought would stay forever, friends, lovers, mortal and immortal. Connor, Methos, Amanda, Jo, Duncan…my Highlander. You should have all lived. There should have been more than one.”
“For all the heads I’ve taken over the years, the senseless new kids who challenged me, to all those I’ve trained who’ve lost their heads. Even the head-hunters who came my way. You shouldn’t have been driven to it.”
For the first time in her life Dawn knew what it was to be truly alone. Weeping she fell to the ground, as the realisation no-one was left truly sunk in. It was all gone. Her family, mortal and immortal. Her duty to the world and Slayer line. The last hellmouth was closed. No demons walked the planet. There was no place on this new earth for her. Stumbling out of the chapel dawn sat on the step and looked up at the stars.
For the first time since her teenage years Dawn felt the pull to return home, to become her true self once more. A way out of the pain and suffering, to become anything but Dawn. As she gradually faded away into the green lights that were here true self, a single tear fell to the floor. Final testimony to the worlds last true heroes. For in the end there cannot even be one.
*I’ll top the bill,
I have to find the will to carry on,
With the show…
With the show…
The show must go on.*