Yo all. I continue to be seized by crazy writing fervour. Still not really focussing on the things I want it to, but this popped out last night.

Genre: Buffy the Vampire slayer fanfic. Gen. Kinda. >_>;;
Type: Short/Drabble - 833 words, possible TBC
Summary: Dawn reflects on friendships.
Stuff: PG. (I know! WTF?) Dawn POV. Post Season Seven. Ignoring Season 8. Also ignoring Angel canon for the most part (Can we set up a new genre? CWC - canon? what canon?).
A/N: Well, this was actually not what I was planning to write, this was the bit to explain the bit that I wanted to write. Which I didn't get to, coz this part grew. Anyway, I don't know if this is a standalone or if it's going to be part of a mini-series of shorts, but I don't plan on making another proper series, so even if I write more, they will be chunks designed to be read and finished in one go, not chapters, (if that makes any sense...).

Also, although I haven't written anything in this fandom before, I do feel somewhat qualified to do so (for a change) because I have loved Buffy for years. Although I will say that I've only seen the seasons 1-5 once or possibly twice each, so a lot of that information is pretty vague in my head, so sorry if I somehow manage to pull in something incorrect. Part of this is exploring a little the concept of how Dawn was inserted into past events, so obviously that will be a bit contradictory, too.






Disclaimer: Buffy is owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy and a whole lot of really cool people who aren't me. I'm writing this for fun and make no claim on anything save for my ideas and am making no profit from this whatsoever.


--

Is it strange that as a child my friendships were defined as the people who listened to me?

I ask because I don't have all that much experience with un-strange, y'know, so it's sometimes hard to tell.

When I was 16, Xander was my friend, (I try not to count the years I didn't really exist for, but then some days I feel like I ought to - if that's the whole point, but then I just get all confused). Previously -to being 16, I mean- Xander had been an older-sister's-friend friend, which might not really count as being a friend at all, but more of a person who cares because they hang around a lot, as opposed to a person who hangs around a lot because they care. The difference, cause and effect, cause: Buffy, effect: caring. Verses, cause: Dawn, etcetera.

But when I was sixteen, Xander became my friend for my sake. Because he was a person who saw me, amidst pain, fear and horror, he listened, and cared. From then on he was mine, too, not just hers.

When I was fourteen, Tara became my friend. Sitting outside the magic shop waiting for the universe to realign itself, sharing a moment of, 'Hey, look! Chaos!' which over the years became so familiar, like that old musty patchwork quilt from your grandmother's house which you endure, and with age, gains its own kind of reluctant fondness - a place secured in your heart by memories and repeated use, if never actually enjoyed.

Tara saw me that day, and though helpless with, it loved me a little. She couldn't save me, but it was still worth something that she was there. We became friends.

But my very first friend -first real friend- came when I was much younger - with an evil vampire in the house, waiting for my super-sister to come home.

I had had the flu and couldn't sleep, restless in the way of the truly sick and exhausted. I had wandered downstairs to find my mother serving tea to a very strange man.

The man had been delighted to see me, "This is the little sister?" he said with fascinated, foreign tones. I disliked him at once - for knowing me only in relation to her. He moved swiftly to me, crouching and speaking formally, "My name is Spike, and I would be most honoured to make your acquaintance- ...?"

"Dawn." I supplied.

"Dawn Summers. Fantastic to meet you at last." he said and shook my hand.

His eyes gleamed; his skin was almost glowing, like starlight, so out of place in our small kitchen.

While we'd stared, assessing each other, my mother had been explaining about the flu. The man had stood, flashing my mother a smile, "Joyce, since we're all up, why don't I take Dawn here and watch some cartoons while we wait for Buffy, I've interrupted you finishing that report for your work for too long already."

Mom agreed and I had found myself ensconced in front of the television with hot chocolate and what I was rapidly beginning to suspect was a Suspicious Person.

"So what cartoons do you like, lil'bit?"

I frowned at the name. Grumpy and contrary I tossed out, "Buffy likes Scooby Doo." Hoping he would just follow normal Buffy-obsessed patterns and start searching through the videos for anything to related to giant talking dogs.

Instead, I received an eerie, focussed look. "Wasn't asking about the slayer, kiddo."

The 'slayer' bit confirmed it, only Watchers and vamps called Buffy that, and this guy was British, but not that British.

"Do you like Scooby Doo, Dawn?"

I couldn't help wrinkling my nose, "No, I think it's stupid. It's not even scary and it's always really dumb and obvious what's happening." I said, defiant of many, 'I'm the oldest, I get to pick what we watch' arguments.

The Suspicious Man, Spike, smirked, "You like scary stories?"

I stared at him, "Are you a vampire?" I asked, reckless of house rules, secrets and lies.

"You're a pretty smart kid, aren't you, Dawn?" He just kept watching me, kept paying attention. It made me wild.

"Are you going to hurt me and my Mom?"

"I'm just waiting for Buffy."

I scowled at him, "If you try and hurt my sister she'll kill you."

Spike tugged on my hair, still smiling, "I don't need to hurt Buffy, tonight."

Youth and sickness confused me enough that I left it there, turning to glare at the television instead of the fantastic stranger.

"How about we leave off the cartoons for now, Dawn, you tell me what kind of story you like, and I'll have a go at it, yeah?"

I turned to look back at him, he was still watching me - in that strange way where it felt like he was staring straight into my soul, like not a single thing else existed in the whole world but him and me. I loved him at once.

"Tell me something scary."


---