DAWN SUMMERS’ 2001 - 2002 CHECKLIST
__ Get Willow and Spike together

She licked her lips and twiddled the pen absently. She couldn’t think of much else she wanted to get done for the year… yet; she’d leave the rest of the page blank, but start mapping out her plans to carry out her first (and so far, only) goal.

She grinned. She’d never really considered the idea of Willow and Spike as a couple until she’d seen them curled up together that morning at Giles’ house; it was good that they were friends, too, because Willow had confided in Dawn that her worst problem was getting crushes on her best friends.

Perhaps it hadn’t worked out so well with Xander, but Dawn was determined that it happen with Spike. After all, they were all living together, weren’t they? And Spike was already so much a big brother to Dawn.

She was getting tingly at the very idea of Willow and Spike, now.

Of course, they’d want to take it slow—or, at least, Willow would. She was one for cautious dating, and Dawn knew it would probably take at least six months before Willow and Spike formally consummated their relationship. It was too bad Willow was so… well, shy.

Dawn pursed her lips and sighed. The sunlight was distracting—it was too beautiful a day to just be sitting here, no matter how noble her intentions. She pushed the pen into the spirals of her notebook and hid the notebook under her pillow. While they were settling in, Willow and Dawn were ‘camping out’—spending nights in sleeping bags until all of the painting and carpeting was done for their huge new house. Dawn felt a twinge of homesickness for the Summers’ former residence, but it had been her idea to move. With both her mother and Buffy gone, the cozy little house seemed empty and hollow, full of ghosts no matter how many friends she had over, or however boisterous the Scooby Gang was.

Dawn stood, bending slightly so she wouldn’t bump her head against the ceiling, and crossed her loft to the ladder on the far side and climbed down to her bedroom proper. The loft was about seven feet high, and the ceilings of her room just above twelve feet when she stood on the floor. She was planning to paint her room a nice rosy color, but she wasn’t quite so sure if she’d like having her room be pink in a year or so.

Dawn made an exasperated noise and decided that perhaps some ice cream would clear her mind. “Willow?”

“In my room!” came the reply.

Dawn crossed the hall and pushed the door to Willow’s room further ajar. Willow and Spike, both dressed in the oversized T-shirts they’d been using for smocks, faced the one windowless wall in the room. They each held a small can of gold paint in one hand and a slender paintbrush in the other, and were carefully studying a heavy spellbook that was propped on a table.

“How’s it going?” Dawn asked, admiring how cute Willow and Spike looked together.

Willow grinned. “Great! Take a look. It’s a super-complicated blessing, basically, that marks this room as my sanctuary. And what’s good about this is that if you do a curve or two wrong, it won’t upset the spell because it’s so benevolent.”

“Neat!” Dawn said. She stepped closer and compared the mural of runes, curlicues and complex figures that Spike and Willow had created on the wall to the one illustrated on the dusty pages of the book. “Wow. Good job.”

“Yeah. During the day, when Spike’s not in here, I can draw back the curtains,” Willow explained, gesturing towards the sparkling translucent black drapes she’d hung from her windows, effectively sun-proofing the room. “Think how gorgeous this’ll look with the sunlight on it!”

“Almost as gorgeous as you,” Spike said teasingly. Willow rolled her eyes and bumped Spike with her elbow.

“Please.” She looked over her shoulder at Dawn. “Dawnie—did you want something, or did you come to volunteer to help? We have more smocks!”

Dawn smiled. “Nah, you guys look like you’re doing fine without me. I was just wondering if you wanted to go for some ice cream.”

Willow’s brow furrowed, and she looked doubtful. “Maybe after sunset,” she said, glancing at Spike, who appeared to not be listening. “But during the day… I don’t want to just leave Spike all by his pathetic little lonesome.”  This last part she added loudly, so Spike grimaced and snorted at her.

“I’ll be fine. You chits go out, get some mint choc-chip. Just bring some back for me.”

“Dawn, you wanna go on an ice cream run? Go to Ben & Jerry’s, bring some back for the team?”

Dawn considered this. Though she’d rather have gone with Willow, it would be a good idea to leave Willow and Spike alone to get to know each other better; some other day, soon, she’d go for a walk with Willow and gently suggest the idea of hooking up with Spike and see how the other girl reacted.

“Yeah, sure,” Dawn said. “I’ve got some money, but you’ll pay me back, right?”

Willow laughed. “Yeah, sure, greedyguts. Go get some ice cream. Lots.”

“Spike wants mint chocolate-chip,” Dawn said, pausing at the doorway. “Can I get three different pints, and we can mix and match?”

“We’ll gain about fifteen pounds each, but yeah, sure…”

Spike grinned. “Get some Cherry Garcia, will you?”

Dawn raised an eyebrow. “Do I hear… four pints?”

“I want mocha almond fudge,” Willow said.

“I’ll decide when I get there,” Dawn said. “I’ll get something very unusual and interesting.”

“Don’t get anything weird, like banana-mint-vanilla-macadamia-mozzarella, okay?” Spike said, cringing. “They get stranger flavors every time I go there, and it’s a little scary, even for a terrifying master vampire like myself.”

“You go to Ben & Jerry’s often?” Dawn asked interestedly. “When does this happen?”

Spike made a face at her. “Shoo.”

“Ooh, wait ‘til I tell all the other vampires how Spikey spends his dark, intimidating nights mixing and matching Ben & Jerry’s!” Dawn said. She sounded sadistically gleeful, Willow thought.

“This is your influence rearing its ugly head,” she remarked to Spike, who rolled his eyes.

“I’m sure.”

Dawn sighed. “Okay, I’m gone.”

Spike nodded and picked up his paintbrush again. Willow shot a nervous glance at him and then turned back to Dawn. “I’ll walk you downstairs,” she said.

Dawn raised her eyebrows. “Ooookay.”

Willow crossed her arms across her chest as they walked in tandem down the stairs. “This is a little tough,” she said as they got to the bottom. “Uh, I have something for you.”

Dawn looked interested. “Really?”

Willow looked away and fiddled with the hem of her smock. “Yeah. Um… It’s from Buffy,” she said suddenly.

Dawn stared. “From Buffy.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry… She gave me letters she’d written for everybody. She wrote a letter for Giles, for Anya, Xander, me, Spike and you. And for Angel. She always did that before a big fight, just in case, and she had some backups in case of… You know, like, patrolling.”

Dawn looked dumbfounded.

“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to give it to you, but there never seemed to be a right time,” Willow said apologetically. She produced an envelope from a pocket in her smock and handed it to Dawn, who took it numbly.

“I… Uh…” Willow began again, and then sighed. “Take your time, okay?”

Dawn nodded.

“Just be back before sunset.” Willow paused as if she were going to say something else, and then stopped. She kissed Dawn’s forehead and stroked her hair once, and then smiled a little shakily and headed back upstairs.

Dawn stood in the front hallway for a long moment before gently tearing the envelope open and taking out the letter.
 

*   *   *
 

Dear Dawnie,

I’m beginning to understand how the world works. Lots of times it’s like that guy said—what’s his name, Calvin. I think. Anyway, he said, “Life is nasty, poor, brutish and short.” And since you’re reading this, I guess at least the ‘short’ part is true, for me. What I’m about to say will probably annoy you, but that’s all right. I spend a lot of energy making sure I’m antagonistic enough.

So: Sometimes the tough stuff builds character, like Calvin’s (from Calvin and Hobbes, not the preachy guy. Though the preachy guy might have been Hobbes…) dad says. It’s annoying to think about, you know, the bad being good for something, but I think it’s true. Try and learn from your experiences. When life throws you lemons, make lemonade. And most clouds have some sort of silver lining, though you usually only catch that with hindsight.

I’m rambling—I hope you don’t mind. The only person who can babble better than Buffy is Willow. You know what I’m talking about. She is babble *queen*. But, yeah. Like I said, sometimes life sucks. You’ll probably learn—you probably already have learned—that the things that are the most enjoyable are usually bad for you, that all men are pigs, and that you’re never, ever going to use any kind of math beyond Algebra. Unfortunately, you still have to eat your broccoli and hold off on the sweets (mostly), deal with boys and their stupid quirks, and take Calculus.

But I sound all pessimistic. Life can rock, Dawn. It can be so much fun. There can be little things that make you so happy and you don’t know why, and it’s great. Try not to be too upset that I’m gone—you’ll still have memories of me, and all those lame family videos Mom loved to make, and like eighteen volumes of photos. Miss me. I mean, I’d be insulted if you didn’t, but don’t be one of those people who throw their lives away moping over someone who’s gonna stay gone. Enjoy yourself—hang out with Willow, make Spike behave, help Anya with the Magic Box… You know. Scooby life as usual. Sooner or later you’ll even start patrolling.

Just a few reminders: High schoolers, especially girls, can be really cruel. Just ask Willow about how awful Cordelia used to be to her. I complained, but that was nothing, trust me. Don’t go over to their side, and keep a few things in mind:

Don’t judge people by their gender, race, religion, sexual orientation, species or the shoes they wear. Species you can be a little iffy on—I mean, Gavrok spiders, not a lot of fun—but in general, you have to give people a chance. You can make snap judgments on music taste, but be willing to change your opinion.

Some more sage advice: Give at least five different people a sincere smile every day. Care about others, but be selfish once in a while.

Sing a song. Spaz dance. Have some chocolate. Take a nap in the sun. Read a good book. Reread a good book. Watch “Moulin Rouge.” Quote Monty Python. Listen to mood music. Walk in the rain once in a while. Learn to knit—Learn to kickbox. Memorize stereotypes and try to break them down. Pet Miss Kitty Fantastico. Believe in yourself, and believe in the people you love.

Don’t do drugs. Don’t let anyone make you do something you feel uncomfortable doing (you know what I mean!). *Never* vote for George Bush or any of his descendants. And last but not least, keep a good fashion perspective and *never* (I mean, *never*) wear those horrible Maybelline pink and red nailpolish colors. For my sake.

That’s all, I think. That’s Buffy’s Guide to Life. I’ll miss you, Dawn. I love you.

Buffy
 

*   *   *
 

“Can I talk to you a second?” Willow asked hesitantly.

Spike looked up from the design on the wall and realized from the look on her face that something serious was going on. “Yeah?”

“I…” Willow drew her hand across her face and sat on the plastic-covered floor. “Sit.” She patted the floor in front of her.

Spike sat.

“I think we need to stop,” Willow said, and looked at her toes.

“Stop,” Spike repeated.

“Stop having sex,” Willow explained. “This ‘affair’ we’re having—whatever it is—it needs… It’s not healthy.”

“ ‘Not healthy’?” Spike demanded.

Willow looked up at him, hurt. “Will you give me a chance to explain, Spike?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he nodded at her to continue.

“I don’t think this is good for either of us,” Willow said. “I think that we’re using each other for comfort as a least resort because neither of us can have what we really want, and I think that’s bad. I don’t like using people, and I don’t like being used, and right now that’s what’s happening, even though it was a mutual agreement. I feel like I’m being selfish and I don’t like being that kind of selfish that has the potential to hurt other people. I think that if we keep on as we’ve been doing, we’ll be too distracted by each other to give Dawn the attention she deserves, and that’s not fair to her!

“We’re her guardians, and right now we’re not treating her as first priority, which is what I think we need to do. How would she feel if we paired up and left her in the proverbial dust?

“And I don’t like secret relationships. I’m not ashamed of you and I’m not ashamed of us, and I don’t particularly think that anyone in the gang would have that much trouble adapting to the idea of us as a couple, but they would have a problem with the fact that we didn’t tell them two months ago, and so do I. And another thing they wouldn’t understand is that we’re not a couple. We’re friends who have comfort sex! We’re not in love. You’re in love with Buffy and I’m not in love with anyone. It’s empty and a little scary and I think it’s hurting both of us.

“I like being your friend. I think you’re a wonderful guy, and I think I can honestly say that I wouldn’t mind falling in love with you, but I won’t, and you won’t fall in love with me, so I think this needs to stop. I know you hate the ‘let’s-just-be-friends’ talk, but I honestly mean it. We managed fine for the past two months, even though there was a lot of innuendo, and I want to go on that way. I want to take care of Dawn with you, and I want to patrol with you, and I want to be able to be with you without feeling like I’m doing something I shouldn’t be.”

Willow took a deep breath and wrenched her gaze away from Spike’s, which had become too intense.

“So. Yeah. That’s all, I think. I’m sorry.”

Spike was silent for a long, excruciatingly painful moment. He looked at the drape-covered windows; he looked at the gold wall; he looked at Willow’s bowed head and his own tightly clasped hands and swallowed loudly.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “You’re—You’re right, I guess.”

Willow looked up, surprised. “I am?”

Spike nodded. “I… Yes. I mean, it sucks, but you’re right.”

Willow clenched her jaw. “Okay,” she said, and stood.

Spike stood, too, and they stared at each other for another long moment before Spike said, “I… Uh… I’m going downstairs.”

Willow nodded, and stood silently as Spike pulled his smock up over his head and slowly trudged out of her bedroom.

She felt emptier, now, somehow.

Damn it.