Remembrance Enough
Jan. 1st, 2012 01:40 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
misseTitle: Remembrance Enough
Prompt: 01 – China Roses, by Enya
Word Count: 1,153
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Pairings (if any): Dawn Summers, Xander Harris (friendship)
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/RPF etc): Future fic, refers to character deaths, but no details. Sad. I made myself cry writing it, and the person I gave it to, also.
Summary: Thirty years post-Chosen, they Remember
Link:
“She never did remember the details,” Dawn began.
“I know,” Xander nodded as he sat beside her, looking out over the view.
“Still…”
“Still,” Xander agreed, “she was there, no doubt about it.”
“Heaven,” Dawn breathed. “Do you think we will ever get there?”
“Me? Don’t know,” Xander shrugged. “I’ve done a lot. I hope so; there’s so many I want to see again,” he smiled. “Your mom, for one.”
Dawn matched his smile. “It’ll be good to see her again. Buffy, of course. Cordy’s there; do you think Anya will be?”
“She gave her life for Andrew, during an apocalypse,” Xander nodded firmly. “The only reason she wouldn’t be there would be because she didn’t want to be.”
Dawn thought about that for a moment, then smiled. “Maybe she was able to set up shop somewhere,” she offered with a grin.
Xander laughed and nodded. “Maybe Giles has found a great big library.”
Dawn muffled a sudden sob with her hand. “Oh God,” she murmured, “I hope so.”
Xander grimaced; too soon, obviously. “He went out the way he wanted,” he soothed, “saving his Slayer.”
“He was seventy-eight damn years old,” Dawn cried, “he was too old to be looking after a Slayer.”
“It was his choice, Dawn,” Xander argued softly. It was an argument they’d had numerous times over the last few months. “He stepped down from the Head of the Council and dumped me in it, and chose a Slayer of his own. Jeanette was old enough and wise enough that he didn’t have to baby her. He never wanted to fade into obsolescence,” he added.
“I know that,” Dawn agreed, “don’t you think I don’t know that? But I miss him so much!”
Xander stood suddenly. “Come,” he ordered.
Dawn eyed him uncertainly, but obeyed, rising gracefully to her feet. Her poise was a far cry from her adolescence, all gangly limbs and bumbling enthusiasm, Xander decided. She was a woman now, had been for over two decades, and grew more beautiful each year, much like her mother. He knew that she’d taken to dying her hair recently, having become dismayed at the first few silver strands to invade her raven locks, but that was nothing to the life that glowed from her. She might be married to someone else, and have children of her own, but some part of him would always see her as Dawnie, the erratic and enthusiastic child he’d first ‘met’ when Buffy had moved to Sunnydale. He took her hand, and led her down a rarely used path.
Dawn waited until they arrived at something that looked like a small temple. “Where are we?” she asked, turning to face him.
“When Giles first started talking about stepping down, I asked him to give me six months,” Xander began. He walked up to the temple, still leading his old friend. “I knew that if I left it until he stepped down, this would never be built.”
Dawn stepped into the temple and found it to be a memorial for a very select few; she gasped softly. “This is incredible,” she murmured.
Xander grinned. “Glad you liked it. You’re going to be here one day, too.”
Dawn began to walk around the memorial, trailing fingertips over the plaques until she came to one. “You found her?” she demanded, spinning to stare at Xander.
Xander grinned. “We kept an eye on things when they started excavating the crater,” he nodded. “We recovered a few of our people, made sure we had the right ones, and buried them decently. Anya’s here, too,” he added, pointing to a spot on an adjoining wall.
Dawn stroked her mother’s plaque lovingly before moving to brush her fingers over her sister’s in fond remembrance. “Eighteen years,” she murmured. “God, has it been that long?”
“Eighteen years for Buffy, fifteen for Faith,” Xander nodded sadly. “All of the Sunnydale veterans are gone, now,” he added.
“Not all,” Dawn frowned. “You and I are still here.”
Xander shrugged. “I meant the Slayers.”
“We were there, Xander,” Dawn reminded him, “that means something. So why bring me here now?” she asked, changing the topic.
Xander looked around the memorial for a long moment. “You’re the one who had children,” he explained finally. “Well, you, Willow, and Andrew. I’ll bring the others here shortly, but I wanted you to see it first. I’ll be bringing Connor through, too,” he added. “It will be odd to have an Aurelian here, but I think they deserve it; between the three of them, they did a lot for the Light.”
“Did you…” Dawn wasn’t sure if she even had the words.
It turned out that Xander didn’t either, as he simply pointed. Dawn walked over to find a collection of plaques, most of which had the same horrible year marked.
Dawn gave a broken laugh when she saw the caricature etched onto Cordelia’s plaque. “I can’t believe you did that.”
Xander looked at the figure she was pointing to, and chuckled. “She was the one that drew it, and Angel agreed that it was fitting.” He looked around. “I have space for all of us, and for your children, and Willow’s, Andrew’s and Connor’s children.”
Dawn looked around the open, gracious space, with pale marble walls and discrete brass markers. Etched high on the walls was Buffy’s speech from long ago; maybe it wasn’t Shakespeare, but it was utterly relevant to the time.
“There’s one more thing,” Xander announced. He led the way through a hidden door to a small room lit only by the skylight that dominated the ceiling. Alone in the centre of the room was a wood carving.
Dawn stepped up to run a hand over the smooth, red-brown surface. “It’s beautiful.” She stroked her fingertips first over Buffy’s face, which took pride of place at the front of the carving, then over the various members of her extended family displayed. “We’re not here.”
“Not yet,” Xander nodded. “I have a list of approved sculptors on the file. When the time comes,” he shrugged.
“So … we’re a new line of Guardians?” Dawn asked, smiling slightly.
Xander cocked his head in thought. “I like that,” he decided, “the Guardians of the Slayers. We don’t control the Slayer, but we help her, Guard her from those who would hurt her.”
“I’m just thankful you didn’t use a pyramid motif this time,” Dawn grinned. “Buffy told me about that, and I always thought it was a little overdone.”
Xander glanced up to the see the sun, just about to set below the edge of the skylight, and the waxing crescent moon, just faintly seen a little above the sun. He had passed on the knowledge of the memorial, now, and a weight had passed off his shoulders. Dawn’s line would continue, as would Willow’s, Andrew’s and even Connor’s, and with them the memories of their family. That was Remembrance enough.
Prompt: 01 – China Roses, by Enya
Word Count: 1,153
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Pairings (if any): Dawn Summers, Xander Harris (friendship)
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/RPF etc): Future fic, refers to character deaths, but no details. Sad. I made myself cry writing it, and the person I gave it to, also.
Summary: Thirty years post-Chosen, they Remember
Link:
“She never did remember the details,” Dawn began.
“I know,” Xander nodded as he sat beside her, looking out over the view.
“Still…”
“Still,” Xander agreed, “she was there, no doubt about it.”
“Heaven,” Dawn breathed. “Do you think we will ever get there?”
“Me? Don’t know,” Xander shrugged. “I’ve done a lot. I hope so; there’s so many I want to see again,” he smiled. “Your mom, for one.”
Dawn matched his smile. “It’ll be good to see her again. Buffy, of course. Cordy’s there; do you think Anya will be?”
“She gave her life for Andrew, during an apocalypse,” Xander nodded firmly. “The only reason she wouldn’t be there would be because she didn’t want to be.”
Dawn thought about that for a moment, then smiled. “Maybe she was able to set up shop somewhere,” she offered with a grin.
Xander laughed and nodded. “Maybe Giles has found a great big library.”
Dawn muffled a sudden sob with her hand. “Oh God,” she murmured, “I hope so.”
Xander grimaced; too soon, obviously. “He went out the way he wanted,” he soothed, “saving his Slayer.”
“He was seventy-eight damn years old,” Dawn cried, “he was too old to be looking after a Slayer.”
“It was his choice, Dawn,” Xander argued softly. It was an argument they’d had numerous times over the last few months. “He stepped down from the Head of the Council and dumped me in it, and chose a Slayer of his own. Jeanette was old enough and wise enough that he didn’t have to baby her. He never wanted to fade into obsolescence,” he added.
“I know that,” Dawn agreed, “don’t you think I don’t know that? But I miss him so much!”
Xander stood suddenly. “Come,” he ordered.
Dawn eyed him uncertainly, but obeyed, rising gracefully to her feet. Her poise was a far cry from her adolescence, all gangly limbs and bumbling enthusiasm, Xander decided. She was a woman now, had been for over two decades, and grew more beautiful each year, much like her mother. He knew that she’d taken to dying her hair recently, having become dismayed at the first few silver strands to invade her raven locks, but that was nothing to the life that glowed from her. She might be married to someone else, and have children of her own, but some part of him would always see her as Dawnie, the erratic and enthusiastic child he’d first ‘met’ when Buffy had moved to Sunnydale. He took her hand, and led her down a rarely used path.
Dawn waited until they arrived at something that looked like a small temple. “Where are we?” she asked, turning to face him.
“When Giles first started talking about stepping down, I asked him to give me six months,” Xander began. He walked up to the temple, still leading his old friend. “I knew that if I left it until he stepped down, this would never be built.”
Dawn stepped into the temple and found it to be a memorial for a very select few; she gasped softly. “This is incredible,” she murmured.
Xander grinned. “Glad you liked it. You’re going to be here one day, too.”
Dawn began to walk around the memorial, trailing fingertips over the plaques until she came to one. “You found her?” she demanded, spinning to stare at Xander.
Xander grinned. “We kept an eye on things when they started excavating the crater,” he nodded. “We recovered a few of our people, made sure we had the right ones, and buried them decently. Anya’s here, too,” he added, pointing to a spot on an adjoining wall.
Dawn stroked her mother’s plaque lovingly before moving to brush her fingers over her sister’s in fond remembrance. “Eighteen years,” she murmured. “God, has it been that long?”
“Eighteen years for Buffy, fifteen for Faith,” Xander nodded sadly. “All of the Sunnydale veterans are gone, now,” he added.
“Not all,” Dawn frowned. “You and I are still here.”
Xander shrugged. “I meant the Slayers.”
“We were there, Xander,” Dawn reminded him, “that means something. So why bring me here now?” she asked, changing the topic.
Xander looked around the memorial for a long moment. “You’re the one who had children,” he explained finally. “Well, you, Willow, and Andrew. I’ll bring the others here shortly, but I wanted you to see it first. I’ll be bringing Connor through, too,” he added. “It will be odd to have an Aurelian here, but I think they deserve it; between the three of them, they did a lot for the Light.”
“Did you…” Dawn wasn’t sure if she even had the words.
It turned out that Xander didn’t either, as he simply pointed. Dawn walked over to find a collection of plaques, most of which had the same horrible year marked.
Dawn gave a broken laugh when she saw the caricature etched onto Cordelia’s plaque. “I can’t believe you did that.”
Xander looked at the figure she was pointing to, and chuckled. “She was the one that drew it, and Angel agreed that it was fitting.” He looked around. “I have space for all of us, and for your children, and Willow’s, Andrew’s and Connor’s children.”
Dawn looked around the open, gracious space, with pale marble walls and discrete brass markers. Etched high on the walls was Buffy’s speech from long ago; maybe it wasn’t Shakespeare, but it was utterly relevant to the time.
“There’s one more thing,” Xander announced. He led the way through a hidden door to a small room lit only by the skylight that dominated the ceiling. Alone in the centre of the room was a wood carving.
Dawn stepped up to run a hand over the smooth, red-brown surface. “It’s beautiful.” She stroked her fingertips first over Buffy’s face, which took pride of place at the front of the carving, then over the various members of her extended family displayed. “We’re not here.”
“Not yet,” Xander nodded. “I have a list of approved sculptors on the file. When the time comes,” he shrugged.
“So … we’re a new line of Guardians?” Dawn asked, smiling slightly.
Xander cocked his head in thought. “I like that,” he decided, “the Guardians of the Slayers. We don’t control the Slayer, but we help her, Guard her from those who would hurt her.”
“I’m just thankful you didn’t use a pyramid motif this time,” Dawn grinned. “Buffy told me about that, and I always thought it was a little overdone.”
Xander glanced up to the see the sun, just about to set below the edge of the skylight, and the waxing crescent moon, just faintly seen a little above the sun. He had passed on the knowledge of the memorial, now, and a weight had passed off his shoulders. Dawn’s line would continue, as would Willow’s, Andrew’s and even Connor’s, and with them the memories of their family. That was Remembrance enough.