|
Fashionably Lateby WesleysGirlRating: PG Dawn, Spike, Tara. Written as a back-up fic for Estepheia's Friendship Ficathon. For Ladycat. "We're supposed to be there in twenty minutes," Spike said from the other side of the closed door. "We know," Dawn said, turning slightly and looking at her reflection in the mirror. "I don't know... I think it's a little too..." "Sweet?" Tara suggested. "I was going to say 'babyish,'" Dawn said. The dress was one of the ones her mom had bought, so she felt kind of guilty complaining about it, but the lace collar was just... not her. And it hadn't been for kind of a long time. "So put something else on and let's go!" Spike called, his voice a little bit muffled. "Don't smoke in the house!" Dawn called back, and she heard him cough in surprise. She and Tara exchanged little smiles. There was a pause, and then Spike said, "I'm not!" "I hope he didn't put it out on the rug," Dawn said. "I heard that!" Spike said loudly. "Well here, try this one," Tara suggested, finding another dress that Dawn didn't recognize in the back of the closet. This one was green, and kind of velvety. It looked kind of like one that Tara had, actually, although Dawn was pretty sure that one had some kind of swirly leafy print on it. "You know we're never gonna hear the end of it if we're late," Spike complained. Dawn quickly stripped off the lacy dress and tossed it onto the bed, pulling the green one on over her head. She knew she shouldn't be self-conscious undressing in front of Tara; she was a girl, and her friend, and it wasn't like she didn't know what girls looked like. Maybe that was the problem, actually... knowing that Tara liked looking at girls. But Tara loved Willow, and Dawn knew that they were good for each other. She knew Tara wouldn't do anything to mess that up, not ever. So if Dawn felt uncomfortable, that was her thing to deal with, not Tara's. Still, she was relieved when she was covered up again, and she grinned at Tara over her shoulder as Tara hooked the back of the neck closed for her. Their eyes met in the mirror, and Tara's lips spread into a wide smile. "I think I like this one," Tara said. "Me, too." Dawn looked at the way the fabric smoothed over the small curves that she was developing. "Spike?" "Please tell me you're ready to go," Spike said wearily from the other side of the door, accompanied by a small *thump* that Dawn thought was his forehead against the wood. "Getting closer," Dawn said. "Come in and see?" The door was pushed open almost immediately, without any hesitation on Spike's part. Not that that surprised Dawn. She trusted him, but that didn't mean he was someone he wasn't. Spike stopped in the doorway, though, staring at her. "What?" Dawn said self-consciously, crossing her arms in front of her. "You don't like it?" "No," Spike said. "I mean, yeah, yeah, I do. It's just... well, it's not really your style, is it? Looks more like something Glinda here would wear." "That's why I like it," Dawn said, brushing her hands over her hips and looking at herself in the mirror again. Her right hand faltered, plucking at the fabric uncertainly as she imagined her mom in a store somewhere, picking out this dress. Holding it up, imagining Dawn in it. And she'd never got to see her wear it. She blinked back tears, but Tara saw and understood. "Sweetie... it's okay to be sad." "I don't want to be," Dawn said. "It's Willow's birthday... I want to be happy." But a tear slipped down her cheek. She knuckled it away furiously, wondering how it was possible to be so sad and mad at the same time. "It's not fair." Spike's hand was on her shoulder now. "What's not fair, pet?" "It's not fair that she had to die," Dawn said, mad that Spike didn't get it. He was supposed to know all about death, and he had to be so stupid. She pulled away from Tara, from both of them, and moved over to the window, looking out at the darkening sky and biting her lip, trying not to cry and mostly failing. It wasn't fair. Buffy was too busy being the Slayer to even come close to filling Mom's shoes, and Dawn missed her. "You're right," Tara said gently, standing behind her. "It's not fair. And it stinks. But it's the way things are." "She's right," Spike said. "Hell, I've been around long enough to learn that dozen times over. More." Dawn rolled her eyes. Like she'd forget that he was a vampire and had a hundred years' experience with death -- not to mention causing it -- yadda yadda yadda. "That doesn't mean I have to like it." "No, you don't," Spike agreed. His hand was on her shoulder again, tentatively this time, like he was worried that she'd reject him, and that made Dawn feel guilty. "Can bloody well hate it if you want to. No one'd blame you." "Yeah, but it doesn't do any good, does it?" Dawn asked, sighing as Tara led her over to the bed and sat her down. "There's nothing wrong with being upset about the way things are sometimes," Tara said, going to the bureau and getting Dawn's hairbrush. She came back over and sat down next to her, starting to brush Dawn's hair. Dawn shut her eyes, trying not to think about how her mom had brushed her hair just like this when she was little. There was something comforting about it. It made her feel safe, like nothing bad could happen. Even though she knew that wasn't true. "I don't want to be late," she said, and was rewarded by one of Tara's slow smiles, wide and beautiful. "So we're ready?" Tara asked, standing up. "Oh, thank God," Spike muttered, and when they both looked at him, he said, "Buffy'll never let me live it down if I don't get you two there in time." "Well, don't worry," Dawn said, getting up and slipping her feet into her shoes. "I'm ready." She looked at Tara and then hugged her impulsively. "Thank you," she said softly. She would have hugged Spike, too, but she didn't think he wanted to want to be hugged, even though he really did want to be hugged. "Okay," she said, patting his arm instead. "Let's go." End.
|