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remix_reduxTitle: The Time Around Scars (The Sisters Under the Skin Remix)
Author: victoria p. [![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
musesfool]
Summary: Dawn thinks if she can see where she's been, maybe she can figure out where she's going, and scars are the map that will lead her there.
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Characters: Dawn Summers, Buffy Summers
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Joss is boss.
Original story: The Red and the Black by_shewalks
Notes: Thanks toluzdeestrellas for looking it over. Post-Chosen but no season 8 info has been included.
~*~
The Time Around Scars (The Sisters Under the Skin Remix)
Dawn grits her teeth as Buffy pours peroxide over the cuts on her arm, and hisses when it bubbles white against infection.
"You need to be more careful, Dawnie," Buffy says, the old nickname tripping off her tongue, and for once, Dawn doesn't bristle, doesn't correct her. She's tired and she's hurt and she wants to be petted, wants Buffy to stroke her hair and tuck her in and, hell, maybe even read her a bedtime story.
"It was coming right at you," Dawn answers. Her voice doesn't shake, but she doesn't close her eyes, either, knowing she'll see the scaly, clawed demon bearing down on Buffy if she does. She should be used to it, after all these years, but she's not. She probably never will be.
Buffy tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. "That was part of the plan."
"It was a stupid plan."
Buffy tapes a square white bandage over the cuts on Dawn's arm and stands. She cups Dawn's cheek for a brief moment, ruffles her hair, and kisses the top of her head.
"We specialize in stupid plans. If we had a motto--do you think we should have a motto? I think Xander thinks we should sometimes, but Faith always convinces him it's lame--if we had a motto, it would be, No plan too stupid for Buffy and the Slayers." Of course. Dawn isn't a slayer, and she isn't Buffy; her plans have to rely on more than brute force and the continuing goodwill of whatever powers that be to succeed. "I wonder if we could get that printed up on some business cards." Dawn can't help but smile, and Buffy beams back, mission accomplished, then shakes her head, as if reminding herself she's still got work to do. "Go get some sleep."
Buffy's at the door when Dawn says, "I'm sorry." Buffy turns, eyebrows raised in question. "I always forget what it feels like, and what it must feel like for you--" She raises a hand in a useless gesture, can't really explain what she means.
Buffy nods. "I know, Dawnie. Now, go to bed."
"Yes, ma'am. Slave-driver," Dawn calls after her as Buffy heads back into the kitchen to rehash the fight with Giles (who doesn't call it debriefing anymore, not after Dawn and Xander couldn't stop giggling that one time, back when they still met up in the Sunnydale High library, and most of the time, it's easy for Dawn to not think about how that never really happened), and normally, Dawn would join her, discuss what went wrong, and what went right, what new things they learned about Wiecka demons or whatever was on the menu for the night.
But tonight, Dawn goes back to her room, the villa in Rome traded for a flat in London, but it doesn't matter, because none of them are home. Home is three thousand miles away, a giant hole in the ground that can never be filled, a scar on the landscape like the one Dawn's going to have on her arm from the Wiecka demon's claws. Sometimes, like tonight, she misses it so much it's like an ache under her skin, and she wants to go back, even if it's just to see the nothing they left behind. She thinks if she can see where she's been, maybe she can figure out where she's going, and scars are the map that will lead her there.
She strips down, but instead of pulling on her flannel pajamas and hopping into bed, she stares at herself in the mirror, skin pale after a winter spent huddled in libraries and cafes, but not unblemished.
She's not a slayer, as Buffy reminds her so often. Slayers don't scar easily--super-healing comes with super-strength, one of the features to offset the bugs of being called to fight evil and probably dying young--but Dawn's seen the thin white line on Faith's belly, the twin puncture marks on Buffy's arm, reminders of how far they go, and how hard it can be to come back.
Dawn's not a slayer, so she has her fair share of scars.
Aside from tonight's injury (which might not leave a mark, if she's lucky), she has a long pink scar on her left calf--hellhounds got too close (she runs faster now)--and an older, smaller, silvery white line along her collarbone from a silvery sharp knife, a reminder of a time Buffy almost didn't rescue her. There is a burn mark on the inside of her right forearm--nothing life-endangering that time, just her own stupidity when she tried to iron a shirt for Xander to wear to work--and a tiny, knotty keloid on her left wrist from the time Faith tried to teach her to fight with a knife and she cut herself getting the thing out of the sheath.
But she has no childhood scars, no tiny indentation on her chin from diving headfirst off the couch and into the coffee table when she was a toddler, though she's heard Buffy tell the story half a dozen times ("You were fearless, Dawnie, always getting into trouble."); no knees that look dirty even when they've been scrubbed clean, because she fell off her bike and scraped her knees raw on the asphalt in the parking lot on a sunny Saturday afternoon. She remembers it, remembers Xander's hands on her shoulders as she cried, his confidence that she'd learn even when she swore she wouldn't, but the monks' work wasn't perfect, or maybe it was too perfect, because she has the memories, but no scars, not from the time before she actually existed.
She looks at the scars on her belly last. Long thin lines, barely visible unless you know they're there, but she doesn't even have to look, knows them by feel, the shiny pink-white skin oddly smooth and ticklish. Touching them has become a habit, a routine, a reminder. Not that she needs one--she will never forget that night, the lurch of fear in her belly, the realization that she was going to die, that only her death could stop the world from ending, and then the horror of watching Buffy die in her place.
Dawn touches her scars and remembers how much Buffy loves her, how much Buffy hates that she has any scars in the first place. As she dresses for bed, she thinks about promising to be more careful in the future, but she knows that whenever someone she loves is in danger, that's a promise she'll break.
Maybe the monks got it right after all. She and Buffy are a lot alike that way.
end
~*~
Author: victoria p. [
musesfool]Summary: Dawn thinks if she can see where she's been, maybe she can figure out where she's going, and scars are the map that will lead her there.
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Characters: Dawn Summers, Buffy Summers
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Joss is boss.
Original story: The Red and the Black by
_shewalksNotes: Thanks to
luzdeestrellas for looking it over. Post-Chosen but no season 8 info has been included.~*~
The Time Around Scars (The Sisters Under the Skin Remix)
Dawn grits her teeth as Buffy pours peroxide over the cuts on her arm, and hisses when it bubbles white against infection.
"You need to be more careful, Dawnie," Buffy says, the old nickname tripping off her tongue, and for once, Dawn doesn't bristle, doesn't correct her. She's tired and she's hurt and she wants to be petted, wants Buffy to stroke her hair and tuck her in and, hell, maybe even read her a bedtime story.
"It was coming right at you," Dawn answers. Her voice doesn't shake, but she doesn't close her eyes, either, knowing she'll see the scaly, clawed demon bearing down on Buffy if she does. She should be used to it, after all these years, but she's not. She probably never will be.
Buffy tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. "That was part of the plan."
"It was a stupid plan."
Buffy tapes a square white bandage over the cuts on Dawn's arm and stands. She cups Dawn's cheek for a brief moment, ruffles her hair, and kisses the top of her head.
"We specialize in stupid plans. If we had a motto--do you think we should have a motto? I think Xander thinks we should sometimes, but Faith always convinces him it's lame--if we had a motto, it would be, No plan too stupid for Buffy and the Slayers." Of course. Dawn isn't a slayer, and she isn't Buffy; her plans have to rely on more than brute force and the continuing goodwill of whatever powers that be to succeed. "I wonder if we could get that printed up on some business cards." Dawn can't help but smile, and Buffy beams back, mission accomplished, then shakes her head, as if reminding herself she's still got work to do. "Go get some sleep."
Buffy's at the door when Dawn says, "I'm sorry." Buffy turns, eyebrows raised in question. "I always forget what it feels like, and what it must feel like for you--" She raises a hand in a useless gesture, can't really explain what she means.
Buffy nods. "I know, Dawnie. Now, go to bed."
"Yes, ma'am. Slave-driver," Dawn calls after her as Buffy heads back into the kitchen to rehash the fight with Giles (who doesn't call it debriefing anymore, not after Dawn and Xander couldn't stop giggling that one time, back when they still met up in the Sunnydale High library, and most of the time, it's easy for Dawn to not think about how that never really happened), and normally, Dawn would join her, discuss what went wrong, and what went right, what new things they learned about Wiecka demons or whatever was on the menu for the night.
But tonight, Dawn goes back to her room, the villa in Rome traded for a flat in London, but it doesn't matter, because none of them are home. Home is three thousand miles away, a giant hole in the ground that can never be filled, a scar on the landscape like the one Dawn's going to have on her arm from the Wiecka demon's claws. Sometimes, like tonight, she misses it so much it's like an ache under her skin, and she wants to go back, even if it's just to see the nothing they left behind. She thinks if she can see where she's been, maybe she can figure out where she's going, and scars are the map that will lead her there.
She strips down, but instead of pulling on her flannel pajamas and hopping into bed, she stares at herself in the mirror, skin pale after a winter spent huddled in libraries and cafes, but not unblemished.
She's not a slayer, as Buffy reminds her so often. Slayers don't scar easily--super-healing comes with super-strength, one of the features to offset the bugs of being called to fight evil and probably dying young--but Dawn's seen the thin white line on Faith's belly, the twin puncture marks on Buffy's arm, reminders of how far they go, and how hard it can be to come back.
Dawn's not a slayer, so she has her fair share of scars.
Aside from tonight's injury (which might not leave a mark, if she's lucky), she has a long pink scar on her left calf--hellhounds got too close (she runs faster now)--and an older, smaller, silvery white line along her collarbone from a silvery sharp knife, a reminder of a time Buffy almost didn't rescue her. There is a burn mark on the inside of her right forearm--nothing life-endangering that time, just her own stupidity when she tried to iron a shirt for Xander to wear to work--and a tiny, knotty keloid on her left wrist from the time Faith tried to teach her to fight with a knife and she cut herself getting the thing out of the sheath.
But she has no childhood scars, no tiny indentation on her chin from diving headfirst off the couch and into the coffee table when she was a toddler, though she's heard Buffy tell the story half a dozen times ("You were fearless, Dawnie, always getting into trouble."); no knees that look dirty even when they've been scrubbed clean, because she fell off her bike and scraped her knees raw on the asphalt in the parking lot on a sunny Saturday afternoon. She remembers it, remembers Xander's hands on her shoulders as she cried, his confidence that she'd learn even when she swore she wouldn't, but the monks' work wasn't perfect, or maybe it was too perfect, because she has the memories, but no scars, not from the time before she actually existed.
She looks at the scars on her belly last. Long thin lines, barely visible unless you know they're there, but she doesn't even have to look, knows them by feel, the shiny pink-white skin oddly smooth and ticklish. Touching them has become a habit, a routine, a reminder. Not that she needs one--she will never forget that night, the lurch of fear in her belly, the realization that she was going to die, that only her death could stop the world from ending, and then the horror of watching Buffy die in her place.
Dawn touches her scars and remembers how much Buffy loves her, how much Buffy hates that she has any scars in the first place. As she dresses for bed, she thinks about promising to be more careful in the future, but she knows that whenever someone she loves is in danger, that's a promise she'll break.
Maybe the monks got it right after all. She and Buffy are a lot alike that way.
end
~*~
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(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-23 01:04 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-05-01 02:02 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-23 01:13 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-05-01 02:03 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-23 01:57 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-05-01 02:04 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-23 05:43 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-05-01 02:04 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-25 05:47 pm (UTC)Your characterisation is really good here - I could hear both their voices in my head.
Lovely work - thanks!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-05-01 02:05 pm (UTC)Dawn's scars only map the life she's actually lived
It makes a crazy kind of sense, right? I liked the idea, anyway. *g*
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-29 12:26 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-05-01 02:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-29 06:03 pm (UTC)and i have to admit, i'm always a sucker for scars and maps and metaphors.
lovely, all around. seriously, i adore it.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-05-01 02:06 pm (UTC)she has the memories, but not the scars - so similar to buffy, in that respect - and yet so different.
Oh, you know, I totally missed that part of it, but yes, you're right.
i'm always a sucker for scars and maps and metaphors.
heh. Me, too. Which is why I thought people might guess this was me. *g*
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-29 07:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-05-01 02:06 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-30 08:18 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-05-01 02:07 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-30 10:14 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-05-01 02:07 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-30 03:32 pm (UTC)Oh, Dawnie. I still think it's funny that a bunch of medieval monks did such a good job making a 21st century girl.
I like this interpretation of her.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-05-01 02:08 pm (UTC)I still think it's funny that a bunch of medieval monks did such a good job making a 21st century girl.
Hee! Yes. It is odd. I guess they had good raw material to work with.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-30 09:00 pm (UTC)Ohhh.
Yeah.
This is painful and wonderful. Thank you.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-05-01 02:08 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-05-01 03:29 pm (UTC)> Slayers don't scar easily--super-healing comes with super-strength, one of the features to offset the bugs of being called to fight evil and probably dying young
Hee.
> She thinks if she can see where she's been, maybe she can figure out where she's going, and scars are the map that will lead her there.
That feels very Dawn.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-05-01 04:39 pm (UTC)Fic: The Time Around Scars (The Sisters Under the Skin Remix)
Date: 2008-02-24 10:35 pm (UTC)And the consideration of the gap between the memory and physical evidence, most of the time, it's easy for Dawn to not think about how that never really happened. But she has thoughts anyway.
Also, yay for Xander.
Re: Fic: The Time Around Scars (The Sisters Under the Skin Remix)
Date: 2008-02-27 08:13 pm (UTC)