Conversations With Small PeopleBy Gidgetgirl
Chapter One
I fall. And where were you?
And where were you? Warm skin,
Wolf grin, and where were you?
I fell into the moon and it covered you in blue
I fell into the moon
Can I make it right?
Can I spend the night?
High tide inside
The air is dew and where were you?
While I died and where were you?
“Honey, I’m home!” Dawn called. She tilted her head to the side and waited for a response. “Buffy? Wills?” She paused. “I’m thinking of going demon hunting,” she called, waiting to see if anyone would take the bait. “Or, you know, thinging the thing with a vampire.”
No answer.
Dawn sighed. “And another night in Chattel Summers by myself.” She walked into the kitchen in search of munchies, and her gaze landed on the small wad of dollar bills sitting on the counter.
She skimmed over the note attached to the money, her eyes lingering on the underlined words. NO PIZZA.
Dawn grinned and picked up the phone and dialed the number from memory.
“Do you have double anchovy?” As far as Dawn was concerned, it was the Chez Summers special, and what Buffy didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
******************************
The words on the page in front of her blurred, and Willow forced herself to continue reading, her bag sitting in the chair that should have been Tara’s and her feet hooked at the ankles.
“I’ve never even seen so many books before,” a little voice said in a stage whisper. “This must be the biggest library ever.”
Willow looked up. Across the table, a little girl with pale skin grinned back at her shyly, the bright red hair falling into the child’s face.
“Are you lost?” Willow asked.
The girl shook her head solemnly, a quiet little smile still firmly in place amongst her dainty features.
“Okay,” Willow said, sighing and leaning forward, “so no lost-age.” She paused and then tried again. “Is your mommy around here somewhere?”
Again, the child shook her head. “Can I see the book?” she asked in the loud kind of whisper that only small children could manage.
Willow nodded, at a loss for words. “Here,” she said, handing the book to the little girl.
“You’re supposed to whisper,” the child told her in a stage whisper. “It’s a li-brar-y.” She broke the word down into three elongated syllables.
“Li-brar-y,” Willow repeated, and a moment later, a small light bulb went off in her head.
“I know you,” she said. Her eyes opened wider, and the child watched her. “You’re…” Willow said.
“You,” the little girl said, the adorable smile still in place. “We’re Willow.” The child glanced down at Willow’s book, her eyes lighting up at the thought of all the new words. She didn’t seem the least bit disturbed by the current situation.
Willow leaned forward suspiciously. “What are you doing here? I mean, what am I doing there?” She stopped and paused for a minute.
“I knew you’d be confused,” the little girl said solemnly. “I told them so.” She reached out and patted Willow’s hand. “But I had to come. She said it was really important.”
“Who?” Willow asked, suspending her disbelief for a moment.
The child stared at her, wondering how it was that Willow didn’t know the answer to that question. “My Tara,” little Willow said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “She said to come. She said there’d be books.” Little Willow grinned. “They smell good,” she said. “Like book candy.”
Willow opened her mouth, her throat dry, and one word escaped. “Tara?”
******************************************
“Taste my blade, spawn of evil!” Dawn said, lunging with the axe and posing for the mirror. The blade felt heavy in her hand, and after a moment, she set it down and picked up a crossbow, loading it carefully.
This isn’t so hard, she thought, and the second the thought crossed her mind, the crossbow went off, sending an arrow barreling into the wall.
Dawn’s eyes widened.
“Wow,” a little voice said from behind her, the words almost indistinguishable. “Can we do it again?”
Dawn whirled around, the unloaded crossbow still in hand.
The gangly child in front of her looked around. “Just one more time?” she wheedled. Then, without waiting a beat, she continued speaking. “I can put my fist in my mouth,” she said. “The whole thing.”
Dawn, suddenly at ease, grinned. “So can I,” she said, and both Dawns had their fists all the way into their mouths before either realized that something very strange was happening.
**********************************************************************
Tap. Tap. Tap. Buffy whirled around at the sound of a constant tapping. Silently, she followed it to its source, braced for a kill.
“Would you stop that already, B?” She heard a little voice say.
“Nuh-uh,” another tiny voice replied. “I don’t want to.”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
There, sitting on top of a large tombstone, were two small girls.
Buffy groaned inwardly. Would Sunnydale parents never learn? Letting your small children play in the cemetery after nightfall wasn’t exactly kosher, especially not on the mouth of hell.
Buffy opened her mouth to call out to them, but the second she did, the little blonde girl pointed. “Vamp!” she squealed, sounding terrified and delighted at the same time.
The dark haired child, no older than six years old, rubbed her hands together. “Hot damn,” she said. “This is gonna be a hellavu night.”
And with that, the two children launched themselves past Buffy to attack a vampire.
Childish giggles filled the air as the two girls tackled the vampire to the ground, and as the vamp soon exploded into dust, Buffy looked around warily.
The mouth of hell was definitely up to something.
Chapter Two“No fair,” the blonde little girl said. “I wanted to stake it this time, Faith.”
“Those’re the breaks, B,” the second little girl said. “You snooze you lose. Not my fault you’re a damn slow poke.”
Buffy stared at them.
“Am not,” little Buffy insisted.
“Are too,” little Faith said, a lazy grin on her little face.
Buffy wrinkled her forehead and tilted her head to the side, arching one eyebrow at the girls.
“Okay,” she said, her mouth twisted into a wry grin. “Which one of you is the Ghost of Christmas Past?”
****************
“So how come you’re here?” Dawn asked the little girl suspiciously. “Are you, you know, evil and stuff?”
The younger Dawn rolled her eyes. “No,” she said. “I’m not evil or stuff. I’m just Dawn.” Little Dawn leaned towards the wall, crossed her arms over her chest, missed the wall completely, and tumbled to the floor.
“Okaaaaay,” Dawn said slowly. “You’re not evil. Just me. Roger. Check. Kapeesh.”
Little Dawn scrambled to her feet. “And you’re me, only bigger.” The little girl grinned, showing a missing front tooth. “You’re even bigger than Buffy.”
Dawn grinned wryly. Somehow, she didn’t feel like she was bigger than Buffy.
“Did you know it’s impossible to lick your elbow?” Little Dawn asked, transitioning from one subject to another with no preamble.
Big Dawn grinned and tried it. “I’d forgotten about that,” she said. “I spent like a year trying to lick my elbow, and…”
“It just can’t be done!” both Dawns chorused at once.
As soon as the words left their mouths, the window behind little Dawn’s head exploded, glass flying everywhere, and an incredible wind blew big Dawn to the ground, beside her younger half.
Together, the girls huddled on the ground for a moment, and then, everything went pitch black.
****************
Willow watched as the little red headed girl flipped through the pages of the book, sighing a happy little Willow sigh at odd intervals.
“You said Tara,” Willow repeated. “Where is she?”
Little Willow looked up from the book, her eyes round and solemn. “My Tara couldn’t come,” she said. “She wanted to come. She really did, but she couldn’t.” She paused for a moment and looked down at the book. “What does androgynous mean?” the child asked, sounding out the word.
Willow opened her mouth and then closed it again. “Is Tara,” she said. “My Tara, is she…” Willow trailed off.
“My Tara,” the little girl corrected shyly, three of her fingers entering her mouth. She sucked contentedly on them for a moment and then looked back up at Willow. “She wishes she was here, with us,” the little girl said. “She wishes it real bad.” The little girl’s eyes filled with unshed tears. “She wishes it so bad.”
Willow pushed down her own tears. “Where is she?” she asked. “Is she okay? Can she hear me?” Willow paused. “Oh God, baby,” she said. “I miss you so much. It hurts so much. Every day, it’s like this giant hole, and it’s just not getting any better.”
“Don’t cry, Big Me,” the little girl said. “She wouldn’t want us to cry.” The child paused. “She cries. She misses you. She wishes she could touch you. She wishes she could give you hugs and kisses and snuggles.” The child paused and demonstrated by hugging herself emphatically, a single tear slipping down her cheek.. Then, she looked up at Willow. “Hey, Big Me?” Little Willow said in a small voice, struggling not to cry. “What’s androgynous mean?”
*******************
“Don’t look now,” Little Buffy whispered to her dark-haired friend, “but I think the big, blonde one wants to slay us.”
“I’m not big,” Buffy insisted awkwardly.
“Bigger than us,” Faith said easily. She looked at little Buffy. “You always did have to be the biggest slayer,” she said. “Go figure.”
“Hey!” Little Buffy said. “It’s not my fault.”
Buffy looked at them. “Am I supposed to be insulted here?” she asked. “Because, honestly, this is just giving me the wiggins.”
The two little girls looked at each other, and Buffy’s stomach turned itself upside down at the way they moved, two halves of one innocent whole.
******************
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!”
Dawn looked at her younger self through the darkness. That kid had some set of lungs.
The air surged with electricity as the lights flickered on and off, and in the next room, the television blared.
“Shhhhhhh,” Dawn said, her voice shaking. “We’ll figure something out.” Together, the girls crawled into the living room and toward the phone.
Little Dawn curled up into a little ball next to her older self’s body, her entire fist jammed into her mouth.
TBC…Little Willow and Willow discuss Tara, Joyce appears to Dawn and Little Dawn, and Buffy has therapy with the little slayers.
Chapter Three“Shhhhhh.” Dawn shushed her younger self.
The lights flickered on and off, and the sound of more glass shattering had both Dawns looking at each other.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGG!” They yelled together.
Immediately, the younger Dawn sat firmly down on the ground, took off her shoes, and contorted herself into a pretzel shape, doing her best to stick her big toe into her mouth.
“What are you doing? Or what am I doing?” The older Dawn asked. “Or… you get the picture.”
Little Dawn’s face turned red with the effort she was exerting trying to get her foot into her mouth. “Buffy says,” the gangly little girl said between breaths, “that the boogie man can’t get you if you have your foot in your mouth.”
Dawn nodded and glared at Buffy in absentia, remembering. “She only said that to make us be quiet,” Dawn told her younger self. “Because she thought you couldn’t talk with a foot in your mouth.”
“Can so,” younger Dawn said around her foot, having finally succeeded in contorting her body enough to fit it into her mouth.
Big Dawn, her eyes wary, nodded. “I know,” she said smugly. “And that just irritated her more.”
“Yay!” Little Dawn said, clapping her hands together and falling over sideways with the effort, foot still firmly implanted in mouth.
The lights flashed on, and the sight before her through Dawn to the floor. Protectively, she pulled her younger self to her side.
“Who are you?” she asked. “What do you want?”
It’s not her, she told herself. It can’t be.
Little Dawn peaked out from around her side. “Mommy?”
**
“It’s like this, Big B,” little Faith said, leaning against a tombstone. “We’re the messenger, me and B.”
“Me and Faith,” little Buffy corrected. “I’m first,” she told the other slayer. “I’m older.”
“I’m stronger,” little Faith argued.
“Well I’m-”
“I’m the oldest,” Buffy broke in, “and no offense, Thing One and Thing Two, but this is just getting way too weird.”
Little Buffy and little Faith frowned at the slayer and hooked their arms through each other’s, united against a common enemy. “We are not things,” the small Buffy said vehemently. “We’re slayers.” There was pride in her little voice.
“That means we kick ass,” Faith piped up.
Buffy glanced away. “Sure,” she said. The last thing she wanted to talk about right now was being a slayer. There was something definitely creepy going on, and…
“Not just sure,” Faith retorted.
“A world of sure,” little Buffy said, her blonde pigtails swinging as she nodded emphatically. “A gallon of sure. A gabazillion pudding cups worth of sure. That’s how sure it is.”
“We’re slayers,” little Faith said. “Buffy and me. Together, we’re the slayers, and you are, too. You and Big Me.”
“Together,” Little Buffy said. “That’s the important part.”
“We’d only kick half as much ass alone,” little Faith said solemnly, and then her face lit up. “Vamp!” she yelled, pointing.
Little Buffy squealed, and, together, the two little girls dove after a vamp that had just materialized, leaving Buffy thinking about her destiny, their joy, and more than anything else, about Faith.
**
“She’s so sad,” little Willow said, sucking on one finger. “She’s distraught.” Her words were muffled and her downy red hair fell into her face as the little girl glanced down at her shoes. “My Tara misses you, Big Me.” The water in the little girl’s eyes overflowed and she sniffled.
Willow looked at the little girl, her heart breaking. “I miss her, too. Can she hear me? Tara, baby, can you hear me?”
“She can hear you,” little Willow said. “My Tara says to tell me what androgynous means.”
Willow ducked down to the child’s level. “What did she really say?” she asked. “Oh, Tara, I’m so sorry. Baby, I miss you so much. Can you hear me?” Willow’s voice broke.
“My Tara wants you to do something for her,” little Willow said shyly. “So we can be together, you, me and her.”
“What?” Willow asked, tears streaming down her face. “Oh, Tara, what?”
“End it,” little Willow said, her big eyes solemn. “This life. End it, and we can all be together again. We can live happily ever after.” The little girl, the picture of innocence, stared earnestly up at Willow.
Willow looked at her younger self, so far gone that she almost couldn’t comprehend what the little girl was saying.
“End it,” the little girl insisted, her voice working its way slowly up to a higher pitch. “You have to end it!” The little girl was sobbing, but her voice was clear. “If you want book candy and my Tara and happy life-y things, you have to say goodbye.”
Willow looked at the girl, mesmerized, and for a moment, she considered it.
“No,” another little voice whispered. Willow turned. Standing there, next to the red-headed child, was a small girl with light brown hair and the most solemn eyes Willow had ever seen. “Don’t end it,” the little voice said, so softly that Willow wasn’t even sure she could hear it.
The little girl came and put her arm around Willow’s leg. “Be strong,” the little girl stuttered softly.
Willow reached down to touch the child’s hair, but her hand went straight through.
“DO IT!” little Willow yelled. “It’s not hard, Big Me. It’s like breaking a crayon, only you’re the crayon. Do it.”
Silently, the brown haired child at Willow’s legs shook her head back and forth.
“Tara,” Willow said, recognizing the little girl at her legs. “Tara.” The child nodded.
Willow looked back towards her younger self. The younger self who was insisting she kill herself. The younger self she had almost listened to. “You’re not me,” Willow said vehemently, the tears streaming down her cheeks.
Little Willow stopped crying, and her eyes flashed. Her red hair stood on end, and the tears disappeared from her face completely. “From beneath you,” she growled, “it devours.”
Silently, little Tara waved a hand at the small Willow, and the small red-headed girl disappeared, leaving Willow watching in horror.
“Don’t listen to it. We love you,” little Tara whispered. “We always will, Big Tara and me. I dreamed about you.” The little girl looked up at Willow solemnly. “For as long as I can remember, I dreamed about you. She misses you.” Little Tara sighed.
“Tara,” Willow whispered, achingly.
“Live,” the little girl said. “For us.” She paused, her eyes wide and solemn. “It’s what she wants.”
**
“Mom?” Dawn asked.
“Mommy?” little Dawn said, her words muffled by the foot in her mouth.
“She won’t choose you,” Joyce said. “At the end of the day, when it comes down to it, she won’t choose you.”
“Who?” Dawn asked, supernatural wind blowing through her hair.
“Buffy,” Joyce answered. “You have to listen to me, Dawn. Both of you. You’re going to need each other, because when it matters, Buffy won’t choose you.”
“Buffy never chooses me,” little Dawn complained, finally taking her foot out of her mouth. “I’m too little.”
“Yeah,” Big Dawn murmured. “I know what you mean.”
“This is all I can give you,” Joyce said softly, her eyes on the older Dawn. “Take care of her, because when it’s all over, she’s all you’ll have.” Joyce paused. “I love you,” she said. “Both of you.”
And with those words, she was gone, and little Dawn’s foot went back in her mouth.
Chapter FourWillow stared at the little girl with the solemn eyes and dirty blonde hair in front of her. She ducked down to her level. “Live,” she said, repeating the little girl’s words.
The child nodded. “Live,” she said. She put a small hand over Willow’s heart. “We died and you missed us, and for a while, part of you died, too, but now, you have to live, because we can’t.” The little girl paused, and she blushed, as if she was just realizing that she’d been talking.
“A part of me died?” Willow asked, and she remembered how it had felt to go to the brink of darkness and return.
“It doesn’t matter now,” the little girl said. “Now you have to be a strong Willow. You have to live. You have to love.”
Little Tara put a finger in her mouth and sucked on it softly, staring at Willow all the while. “Live. Love. That’s all.”
Willow stared at the child, tears streaming down her cheeks, but she nodded. “Live,” she repeated. “Love.”
The child nodded, and her eyes, Tara’s eyes, crinkled on the outside as she smiled softly, Tara’s smile, and without another word, she was gone, and Willow was alone in the library.
**
The vampire exploded into dust, and little Faith tilted her head to the side, as if listening to something that Buffy couldn’t here.
“Well damn, damn, damn the hell,” she said cheerfully, a musical tone in her little voice.
“Okay, is it me, or was that to the tune of Row, Row, Row Your Boat?” Buffy asked.
Little Faith grinned and nodded. “You’re quick, Big B,” she said, “but not quick enough.”
“Nope nope,” little Buffy agreed, her blonde hair bouncing as she shook her head vehemently back and forth. In an instant, she was standing directly next to Buffy. “Not quick enough, but we have to go now.”
“So, listen up, Big B,” little Faith said. “Me and B, when we go, we’ll go together.”
Little Buffy nodded and put her arm around little Faith. “She’s mean,” she said, gesturing to Faith.
“And she’s bossy,” little Faith countered.
“And she does dumb stuff,” the little blonde slayer continued.
“And everyone loves her,” Faith said ruefully, “but I love her too, because she’s my B, and I need her.”
“And I need her,” little Buffy echoed. “You think you know what we are, what’s to come.”
Little Faith glanced at her counterpart, and they spoke together, their little voices blending in a high, spoken harmony. “It’s only just begun.” And with that, they disappeared.
**
The earth rumbled beneath her feet, and little Dawn clung to her older counterpart’s side. “Why is Mommy all blurry?” little Dawn asked, taking her foot out of her mouth. “I can see through her like a goldfish bowl.”
“Mom,” Dawn said. Her voice broke. “Mom.”
Slowly, Joyce’s body became more and more transparent, until finally, all that was left of her was Dawn’s memory of her presence. The lights in the house came back on, and the earth stopped rumbling.
“Where’s Mommy?” little Dawn asked again.
Dawn looked down, half surprised that the little girl was still there.
“Mommy’s gone,” Dawn whispered, aching inside. Her mother was gone. Again.
“Oh,” little Dawn said sadly. “I guess sucking on my feet doesn’t keep the boogey man away, huh?” The little girl paused. “I knew I should have swallowed my tongue.”
“Swallowed your tongue?” Dawn squeaked, the child anchoring her thoughts in the present. “Don’t swallow your tongue… I mean, my tongue… I mean, there will be no tongue swallowing whatsoever.” Dawn paused.
“Was I really this strange when I was little?” she asked out loud.
“Can we play the die, spawn of evil game again?” little Dawn asked her, tugging on the leg of her jeans. “That was fun.”
Remembering her own slaycapades earlier that night, Dawn bit down on her lip. “Okay,” she said, “maybe I was that weird, but…” she trailed off. “Where did you come from?”
“Buffy says I was born in a trash can,” the little girl said. “And that all the rats were singing We Are Family, but Mommy says that isn’t true.” Little Dawn paused. “Where’s Mommy?” she asked.
Dawn sighed. She had a feeling it was going to be a long, long night. She walked over to the phone, picked it up, and dialed Giles’s number.
“Giles,” she said, her voice shaky. “I think we have a situation.”
**
“Bet you can’t swallow your glasses.” Little Dawn poked Giles in the leg. “Bet you can’t swallow your glasses,” she said again.
“Why ever would I want to swallow my glasses?” Giles asked.
“Because,” little Dawn said importantly. She paused. “Bet you can’t do it.”
Giles sighed. Once upon a time, he’d thought one Dawn was bad enough, but the younger one took Dawn-ness to a whole new level.
“You will never believe what happened to me tonight,” Buffy said, walking into the room.
“You told someone they were born in a trash can?” little Dawn guessed, a little bitterly. She put her hands on her hips, and the movement through her balance off. The gangly child fell over, a mess of limbs too long for her four year old body.
Buffy looked at little Dawn, and her mouth dropped open. “I guess,” she said finally. “That you would believe what happened to me tonight.” With those words, the rest of the story came tumbling out.
“A little Faith?” Giles asked. “Oh dear.”
“Oh dear,” little Dawn mimicked. “Can I call you Mr. Oh Dear?” The little girl babbled on happily. “You look like a Mr. Oh Dear to me.”
“But if little Buffy and little Faith are gone,” Dawn said slowly, “why is little me still here?”
The front door opened slowly again, and all of the occupants of the room turned to look at Willow, whose face had gone, if possible, even paler than it’s normal shade.
“You’ll…” the Wicca started to say, but Giles interrupted her.
“Talked to a version of your young self and/or someone else?” Giles asked. He took off his glasses. “Yes, that does seem to be going around.” He paused. “But why?”
“Mr. Oh Dear,” little Dawn said in a stage whisper. “You took your glasses off. Are you going to eat them now?”
Giles did his best to ignore the child, but little Dawn wasn’t to be ignored. As she clamored into his lap, Buffy turned to Willow.
“You alright?” she asked.
Willow swallowed. “I saw Tara,” she said. “Or at least, I saw little Tara.”
At the mention of Tara’s name, Dawn looked up.
“And I saw me, too, only it wasn’t me, not really.” Willow shuddered. “It was an evil me.”
“Like vampire you?” Giles asked, doing his best to situate little Dawn in his lap as she chattered on about eating glasses.
“No,” Willow said.
“Like veiny you?” Buffy asked.
“No,” Willow said. “Like me as a little kid, only it wasn’t me.” She paused. “It was something else.”
“Something else,” Buffy repeated.
“Something evil,” Willow said. “She wasn’t me. I know that now, but Tara…little Tara, she said things.”
“What kinds of things?” Dawn asked softly.
“She knew, about the…the badness,” Willow said. Then she forced herself to say more. She’d done horrible things, and now she had to face them. She had to face them so that she could live and love again. She owed herself, and Tara, that much. “She knew I’d killed Warren. She said part of me died.” Willow paused, tears streaming down her face. “She said that it was time for me to live again. All of me.”
For a moment, there was silence, except for the soft sound of sucking, and Buffy looked over to see that little Dawn was sucking on her fist, her cheeks puffed out and her eyes wide, watching.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m feeling some major need ice creaminess,” Dawn said.
“Something evil,” Giles murmured, racking his mind as he thought over Willow’s words.
“Me first!” little Dawn squealed at the mention.
As the words left the child’s mouth, everything clicked in Giles’s brain. “Evil,” he said. “First.”
“No, me first,” little Dawn corrected him.
“She always does this,” Buffy said, rolling her eyes.
“Hey!” Big Dawn said, insulted. “Real me, standing right here,” she pointed out.
Buffy shrugged.
“Not evil first,” Giles said. He looked at Buffy. “First Evil.”
“As in tortured Angel, tried to get him to kill himself, takes forms of dead people, darkness and doom incarnate, yadda, yadda?” Buffy asked.
Giles nodded. “That would be the summation of it,” he said.
“Takes the forms of dead people,” Dawn said. “Ohhh, ohhh, I’ve got it,” she continued, rushing the words. “Part of Willow died.”
“But what part?” Giles asked. “And I hardly think little…” he trailed off, not wanting the little girl to realize he was talking about her. “I hardly think young D-A-W-N is evil.”
“You’d be surprised,” Buffy said under her breath.
“Standing right here,” Dawn reminded Buffy again.
“Little Faith and little me didn’t seem evil either,” Buffy pointed out. “Weird, freaky, wigginsworthy, but not evil.”
“Hey!” little Dawn said indignantly as she took her fist out of her mouth, finally catching on to what was happening in the conversation around her. “D-A-W-N spells Dawn, and I am not evil! I’m not evil at all. So there.”
“Not evil at all,” Giles said, rolling an idea around in the back of his head. “Not evil at all.”
“Giles?” Buffy asked, trying to get her Watcher to share his thoughts.
“You girls go have your ice cream,” Giles said absentmindedly. “I’ll be in a moment.”
“Me first!” little Dawn squealed.
Buffy rolled her eyes.
Big Dawn narrowed her eyes at Buffy, and the three Summers girls and Willow headed into the kitchen for some ice cream.
Chapter Five“Is it me,” Buffy asked, “or is this officially the longest moment ever?” They’d been in the kitchen for over half an hour and still no word from Giles on whatever theory had caught his fancy.
“Yup,” Dawn replied, licking Triple Chocolate Mocha off of her spoon. “Long moment.”
“Definite longishness,” Willow replied, her voice somewhat subdued.
“Mmmmmmveennnshhhh,” little Dawn said, her words muffled by the gigantic bit of ice cream in her mouth.
“So she just appeared?” Buffy asked Dawn, nodding towards little Dawn. Seeing a four year old version of her sister, especially given that she knew rationally that Dawn herself had never actually been four, was starting to freak Buffy out.
Dawn nodded. “One second I was alone, and the next, boom, me version point oh five.” She paused. “Although there wasn’t actual boom-age,” she admitted. “She just appeared. I thought she was going to disappear when Mom left, but…”
“Mom?” Buffy asked, her voice devoid of expression.
“Where did Mommy go?” little Dawn asked after swallowing the ice cream. As she waited for an answer, she licked her spoon and pressed it against her nose, trying to get it to stick.
“She was here? What did she say, Dawnie?” Buffy asked. “What did Mom say?”
“Nothing,” Dawn said, holding onto her mother’s words.
Buffy arched an eyebrow, not buying it for an instant.
“It probably wasn’t even your mom, Buff,” Willow said. “First Evil, remember?”
“First is the worst, second is the best,” little Dawn recited. That was her motto, because it meant that she was better than Buffy. Screwing her forehead up in concentration, the child smushed the spoon up against her nose, frustrated that it wasn’t sticking.
“Dawn, what did she say?” Buffy asked again, her tone even, but a desperate edge in her voice.
She said you wouldn’t choose me, Dawn thought, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud. “She said that …” Dawn trailed off and looked at her younger self. “She said that little Dawn was all she could give me.”
“A-ha!” Giles’s voice echoed through the house.
“Did anyone else hear a rather loud and distinctly British a-ha from the living room?” Buffy asked, knowing that Dawn was holding something back, but also knowing that her sister wasn’t about to part with her secret.
Everyone nodded, and in the next instant, Willow, Buffy, and Dawn were racing into the living room, little Dawn and her spoon on their heels.
“What a-ha?” Willow asked. “What a-ha?” Somehow, after seeing little Tara, she felt that she had to know, that she had to have answers, and here Giles was, teasing her with a-ha’s..
“For every action,” Giles said, “there is a reaction, for every force, an opposing force.”
The girls stared at him blankly, except for little Dawn, who stared intently at her spoon.
“Two halves of a whole, balance, and equilibria,” Giles said.
“English, Giles,” Dawn said. “Speak English.”
“Yo hablo espanol,” little Dawn said. The others ignored her.
“There can’t merely be a first evil,” Giles said. “There has to be an opposite power, and when the First Evil manifests itself, it must, by the laws of balance, fuel its diametrically opposed equivalent to do the same.”
“So,” Willow said slowly, “what you’re saying is that there’s a what? A First Good?”
“First Good, First Evil,” Buffy said. “It makes sense, in an opposite-y kind of way.”
“No,” Giles said.
“No?” Buffy, Willow, and Dawn asked in unison.
“Bonjour,” little Dawn said happily, completely oblivious to the serious tone in the room around her.
“Not a First Good,” Giles said.
“But you said it was an opposite thing,” Dawn said.
“It is,” Giles said. “What’s the opposite of bad?” he asked after a moment.
“Good,” all three girls replied at once.
“Then how can good truly be the opposite of evil?” Giles looked at the girls, waiting for an answer.
“Now that you mention it, good does seem kind of mild compared to the dark-and-doominess of evil,” Buffy said.
“But if it isn’t a First Good,” Willow asked, “then what?”
“What is evil,” Giles quoted, “but the complete lack of innocence?” He took off his glasses and looked at the girls, each in turn. “Sumerian proverb,” he told them.
“So you’re saying that innocence is the opposite of evil?” Dawn asked. “Sounds kind of sketchy to me.”
“Innocence,” Willow said under her breath. She looked at little Dawn, who smiled up at her, completely out of the loop. “Innocence,” Willow repeated.
“It sounds ludicrous,” Giles said, “but there is some textual support for it, and…” he trailed off, his mind whirling with activity. “If your younger self was indeed the First,” Giles said, “then that indicates that your younger self, your innocent self, had to have died, Willow.”
Part of you died. Willow heard little Tara’s voice in her head. “Part of me died,” Willow said softly. “That day, when I was raising the temple, and I just didn’t care about anything or anyone, when I let the power take hold of me. Part of me died.” She paused. “And then, Crayon Breaky Willow.”
“What?” Buffy asked, trying to follow along.
“Xander brought me back from the darkness,” Willow said. “When he started talking about me crying because I broke the yellow crayon, and I remembered being little, and all of a sudden, I could feel the pain, the love, the reality, everything coming back into my body.”
“Your innocence died,” Dawn said softly, “and Xander brought it back. Like the way he brought Buffy back the first time. Strike another one up for the Xandman.”
“And,” Giles said, “if we assume that your innocence was in fact resurrected, and if the First tapped into that death to appear to you as your younger self, then it might have inadvertently set off a backlash, a wave of subsequent reverse forces, allowing the essence of innocence, its polar opposite, to also take form.”
“Little Faith,” Buffy said, “and me.”
“Little Tara,” Willow said.
“And me,” Little Dawn said importantly. “Don’t forget me. I’m special. Mommy says.”
Dawn wrinkled her forehead. “But why so many? And why is little me still here?” she asked.
For a moment, there was silence. Giles didn’t have the answers. They sat there, staring at each other, and then little Dawn opened her mouth. When she spoke, her voice trembled with a sound so pure that the others almost couldn’t stand to hear it, so beautiful and raw and new that they almost couldn’t recognize it for what it was. Innocence.
“From beneath you, it devours,” little Dawn said in that ancient, Innocent voice. “But from within you comes the power.”
As the child shut her mouth, silence hung in the air, as the others, caught up in memories, said nothing, and little Dawn sat down on the floor and jammed her entire fist in her mouth.
It had begun.
~Fin~