The End Of DisasterBy Queen C
Dawn’s POV
Seventy years.
It’s been seventy years since the night I met Angel in that club. Seventy years since he asked me to come back with him and start over. Seventy years since I said yes.
You know, a lot can happen in that amount of time, and it has. Whether good or bad, I’ve had enough chaos in my long life to last me three more lifetimes.
I’m just glad that it’s almost over.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I love my life, I really do. What Angel and I have together is better than almost anything I could ever have imagined. I say almost, because nothing could be better than what Connor and I would have shared. He was my one true love, just as Buffy was Angel’s.
Still, Angel and I made do with the cards we were dealt. And, as far as I’m concerned, we came out on top. We saw so many things, saved so many lives, and lost so many loved ones, that trying to remember it all now, I almost feel overwhelmed.
Buffy was the first to go. She died saving the world, just as I always knew she would. She was twenty-eight years old when she finally said goodbye to this world for the last time. Giles said she was the oldest Slayer in history.
Wesley was next. He was helping Gwen, this electromagnetic girl, save some children from a maniac when he was struck by lightning. Unfortunately, by the time Gwen was able to try and jumpstart his heart, it was too late.
I wasn’t in the States when Wesley died, though, because at the same time Giles was losing his battle with cancer in England. Although we never regained the closeness we’d had when I was still Buffy’s sister, I was by his side when he took his last breath.
I can’t remember who was after Giles. These last few years, my memory’s not what it used to be. But I do remember that Willow and Xander both went within days of one another, though for very different reasons. Willow was killed in an armed robbery and Xander was crushed by a metal beam that fell from a building he was doing construction on.
Gunn and Fred ended up getting married and having kids. Two of them; a boy and a girl. The twins were seven when their minivan was hit from the side and flipped four times.
The paramedics had to use the Jaws of Life to cut their corpses out.
It was another ten years before Cordelia died. She was training with Angel in the basement when she had a brain aneurysm. The doctor said she was dead before she hit the floor.
A few days later, Lorne died, though this time of old age. Apparently empath demons don’t live as long as most humans.
About six months after that, Faith was released from prison. Completely different from the psycho I knew in my childhood, she helped me, Angel, and Spike keep the streets safe from demons and other potential baddies. Sunnydale was no longer a hot spot, thanks to a spell done by Willow two months before she was killed, but L.A. was as busy as ever. We fought nightly against the forces of evil, helping as many of the hopeless as we could.
Two years later, Faith was shot and killed in a drive-by shooting, while trying to save a kid from a vampire.
It took the next Slayer called nearly five months to get to L.A., and when she arrived I immediately wished she would return to wherever she came from. She was seventeen years old, devoted to her calling, and had a mean streak in her that would have put Cordelia’s to shame.
One of the first things she did when she got here was seek us out and tell us that we had two days to leave ‘her town’, or face the consequences. She was unable to see past the fact that Angel and Spike were vampires, and could have cared less that they had souls or had saved more people than she ever would. And me? Well, I was just their whore.
Ever since meeting my future self, I had been very careful about what I said and did and even thought around others. Knowing what I was capable of when pushed too far, I was always terrified of a repeat performance. However, when I peered into that bitch’s cold, dark eyes as she called me that horrible name, and a few more, I wanted nothing more than to rip her head off her shoulders.
Little did I know that was soon to be her fate.
It was about a month after her initial threat that she finally took action. I guess she realised that we weren’t about to leave our home just because she told us to. So, early one morning, she attacked the hotel, her wannabe Watcher in tow.
Twenty minutes later, Spike dove in between Angel and the Slayer, taking a stake to the heart for his Sire.
Two minutes after William the Bloody’s dust hit the floor, Angel went into a rampage, and literally tore the girl’s head off with his bare hands.
With Spike’s death, Angel seemed to shut down. For months he would just sit in his room, staring at the wall. I would bring him his blood, hold his hand, and tell him about my day. I would go into detail about the demons I had killed and the people I had saved. Then, I would just sit, silently begging him to talk to me.
Finally, one night, he answered my unspoken pleas.
His gaze still locked on the wall, and his voice so low I had to strain to hear it, he began speaking. “You’re a mortal, Dawn. Every day, you grow older. Someday, you’re going to die. Then, where does that leave me?” he whispered, tears in his eyes. “Spike was as I am. He was immortal. With him, I had someone to spend eternity with. Now...”
Gasping, I finally made the connection. When I died, Angel was going to be alone. For all of eternity. Immediately, I thought of the curse. He could turn me, do the spell, and I would keep my soul. Hesitantly, I made the suggestion, not even thinking about what I would be giving up.
Angel had immediately shaken his head, refusing to listen to anymore. “No!” he said. “I won’t let you damn yourself for me.” Then, rising from bed, he went into the bathroom and took a shower.
We never spoke of it again.
From that point on, we continued to fight evil, until I became too frail and unsteady on my feet. Then, Angel went out alone. We had as little as contact with others as possible, choosing instead to spend our free time together. I was too afraid that anyone we met would try and take Angel from me, and he didn’t want to meet and begin to care about any more humans, knowing that they would all die eventually.
Now, though, as I lie in my bed, Angel sitting beside me, I wish he had made more friends. I worry about what will happen when I’m gone, how he’ll cope with being alone in this world after so many years surrounded by others.
Still, I don’t ask him what he’ll do. I don’t want to ruin what little bit of time we have left. Instead, I place my wrinkled hand over his, squeeze it gently, and quietly ask him to tell me a story.
Smiling at me, he nods. Slowly, he begins to talk, his voice like medicine to my pain-ridden body.
“Once upon a time,” he whispers, “There was a little girl named Dawn, who had a big sister that was a super hero.”
Angel’s POV
She’s sleeping now. Peacefully, with a slight smile on her face. I don’t have to ask what she’s dreaming of. I know it’s the past. Of everyone we’ve loved and lost through the years.
I know, because I dream of it, too.
I can’t close my eyes without seeing Spike, Cordelia, and all of the others. Especially Buffy. My beautiful, sweet, loving Buffy. But, instead of dreaming of their untimely ends, like I used to, lately I’ve been dreaming of their lives.
Looking now at Dawn’s peaceful face, I can’t help but match her smile with one of my own. She’s my world now... has been for some time, really. She’s the reason I get out of bed, drink my pig’s blood, then go out to protect the world.
She’s the reason I haven’t greeted the sun.
All those years ago, when I met her in that club, I made a promise to myself that I’d keep her safe as long as I was on this planet. And, I’m proud to say I’ve kept that promise.
Unfortunately, keeping her safe and keeping her protected haven’t always been the same thing. While I’ve made sure that she was never killed in battle, there was nothing I could do when she cried for the death of a friend or family member.
Still, I know that she’s happy with her life. Granted, she’s always missed Connor. So have I. But, she’s learned how to survive without him, until the time could come when she’d see him again.
That’s the real reason I refused to turn her, you know.
Sure, I told her I wouldn’t damn her to save myself. And that’s partially true. But, the real reason I didn’t sink my teeth into her throat, drain her dry, then give her eternal life is because of my long-dead son.
I know I’m a vampire and I’m not supposed to believe in God. However, I’ve seen Hell, spent nearly a century there, so I *know* there must be a Heaven. And, just as sure as I know my own name, I know that Connor’s there, waiting for his one true love to finally arrive. Now, what kind of father would I be if I kept her from him?
So, I stood by and watched her grow older. I watched as her brown hair slowly faded to grey, then finally to white. I watched as her once-smooth skin that shone with youth began to fade and wrinkle. I watched as she went from doing back flips and somersaults while fighting demons to using a cane and finally a walker just to make it across the room.
And through it all, I did nothing.
Even when the smell of death began to surround her, practically reeking from her every pore. Even when her memory began to fade, and I would have to remind her what day, month, even year it was. Even when she would lie awake at night and whimper in pain when her arthritis flared up, I did nothing.
Well, I guess I can’t say nothing. I helped her, of course. I’ve stayed beside her through it all, offering what little support I could. But, I never suggested, nor even thought about turning her. And she never asked me to, either.
These last few years, when it became clear that she wasn’t destined to walk this Earth much longer, I began thinking about my own fate. What I was going to do once she was gone. How I would prevent myself from becoming insane.
I know Dawn still thinks I’m going to Shanshu. She’s never given up hope that the prophecy is true, that someday I’ll become human. I wish I had as much faith as she does.
It’s not that I think the prophecy was a fake, or that Wesley translated it wrong. On the contrary, I think that I *was* supposed to become human. I just think I blew my chance, made one too many mistakes.
I should have known Dawn was telling the truth all those years ago. I should have stopped that demon when he tried to kill her and instead murdered my son. I should have...
You know what? Forget it. I’m far too old and far too tired to play the should-have, would-have game anymore. The point is, I screwed up, and the price I have to pay is my Shanshu. Really, I’m okay with that. Because, honestly? The thought of becoming human now, after everyone I know is gone? Somehow that seems like more of a punishment than a reward.
So, instead of betting on wishes and dreams that are never coming true, I’ve spent the last couple of years making real choices. Of course, I never told Dawn any of this. As far as she knows, I stopped worrying about the future after my brood-a-thon following Spike’s death. And, that’s just how it should be.
She has more important things to do than to sit around worrying about me. Except for now. Now, the only thing she has to do is try to remain comfortable while death takes her away from me.
Staring at her face, I continue to hold her hand, while listening closely to her heartbeat and breathing. These last two weeks, her heart has become far less steady than it used to be. And there are moments when she’s asleep when she’ll stop breathing, sometimes for a full minute or two, and I begin to panic, thinking that she’s gone for good. Then, she’ll start again, and I’ll breathe a sigh of relief and settle back into my chair for the rest of my vigil.
She’s beginning to wake up, now, although I have this feeling it isn’t going to be for long. The smell of death has gotten stronger suddenly, and I can see her soul starting to fade through her eyes.
Giving her a reassuring smile, I squeeze her hand and tell her that it’s all right. That I’m going to be just fine.
Dawn nods slowly, telling me that she knows. That I’m a Champion and I’ll always be one. Then, she whispers she loves me, to which I quickly reply that I love her. And, the amazing thing is, I do. Maybe not in the way that I loved Buffy, or Cordelia, or even Spike. But, I do love her.
Finally, her gaze drifts past my shoulder and she says that she’s on her way, and, while I may never get to heaven or believe in God, I know that she’s talking to Connor and that this is her time. So, leaning down, I kiss her forehead, and whisper in her ear to go home.
And she does.
It takes me a good half-hour to calm myself of my tears. Once I do, however, I know what I have to do.
Rising to my feet, I look down at the shell of Dawn Summers lying on the bed. As I look at the smile on her face, I feel a brief moment of peace, grateful that she left me with joy instead of sorrow. Then, I look at the clock and determination sets in.
Carefully, as though she was still alive, I pick her up and carry her out of her room and down the hallway of the hotel. Without having to think about it, I make the required turns and twists, until I’m finally standing in the room I’ve always dubbed ‘our room’.
It’s a small room that I made into a library for her, as well as an area for me to sketch, and a training area for us to spar. It’s in this room that we worked our way through the deaths of everyone we knew. It’s in this room where we learned what it truly meant to be friends until the bitter end. It’s in this room where, for nearly half a century, we not only fell in love, but frequently made love.
And it’s in this room where I will finally meet my end.
Calmly, I place her corpse in her favourite chair, making sure to put the recliner back so she doesn’t fall forward. Then I walk to the wall that faces east and pull back the thick curtains, revealing a large window overlooking the city.
Humming a tune that my sister Kathy used to have me sing to her, back when I was human, I look at the various sketches of my friends that I’ve made over the years. One by one, I say goodbye to them all, promising them that, if I don’t see them soon, I’ll forever think of them.
I finish my farewell just as my senses start to alert me to find shelter. Ignoring my demon, who is screaming and rattling his cage, I sit down next to Dawn. Taking her cold hand in mine, I look out the window and I begin to speak.
“Once upon a time, there was a troubled young man named Liam who met this beautiful princess named Darla...”
As I continue speaking, slowly, ever so slowly, the sun begins to peak out from the horizon. Falling silent, I merely sit in my chair, hold my dearest friend’s lifeless hand, and watch the sunrise for the first time in nearly four centuries.