Listening carefully to each and every word, Tara could hardly stop herself from rushing over and embracing the teenager in a hug. The last months had been taxing for all of them, with Glory clearly refusing to give an inch of ground to any of them until she found her Key. Buffy’s birthday had been the moment, however, that had finally pushed everything toppling over the edge. Even now, Tara could see Dawn’s arm, the red color of the girl’s blood a sight she wouldn’t wish upon anyone. Whether or not the cuts on the teen’s arm had healed yet, she didn’t know, but she hoped they had. The memory of it alone was something she was sure would continue to haunt her to the end of her days.
“Sweetie…you are real…” She started, picking saying her words carefully, not wanting to make Dawn feel any worse than she no doubt already did.. It was moments like this that made Tara wish that the ever present stutter that constantly haunted her speech would simply disappear, if only to make her comforting words sound a little less forced. “…y-you’re just as real as m-me…”
“But I’m not! I was never even born. All those journals, I never wrote them. I’m only SIX MONTHS OLD, Tara!”
She instinctively buried her face in Tara’s shoulder, clinging to the kindhearted woman as tightly a she could. Even now, when she finally knew that everything about her was fabricated (her mother, her sister, the Scoobies’ love; she hadn’t earned any of it), she still clung to Tara as if she was her only lifeline. How could it all be fake? How could the monks do this to her– it– - whatever she really was?
It was hardto keep her composure when her sister’s hand covered her own, everything she feared becoming so much more tangible in that moment. Her own inability to deal with the loss was only the beginning, as were the many arrangements that yet had to be made for the funeral as their futures. Her biggest fear was not being able to take care of Dawn as she should be taken care of. How could she ever do everything their mom had done for them when she still felt like a kid herself half of the time? What if she failed to protect Dawn or couldn’t keep her happy and safe? Giles would be so much better at this.
“I have to run into town tomorrow, take care of some things. If you want, I can drop it off. It’s good to keep busy now.”
“That sounds good. Just try not to lose it, okay?”
She tried to smile, to lighten the mood even by just the smallest bit, but her expression faltered and dimmed before it could make a difference. It was obvious even to her that her sister was doing worse than her - she really had been ever since the day she found Mom’s body. Dawn didn’t know what was the right thing to do about that, but she couldn’t leave Buffy alone to wallow, so she finally gathered together her courage and brought up the one thing they had both been avoiding mentioning for so long now.
“Buffy, do you… do you wanna talk about it? What we’re gonna do now… without Mom?”
The enthusiasm is certainly appreciated; Yitz hopes the girl is still enthusiastic after she sees the show. She turns her attention to a nearby shelf which holds what looks (and smells) like different sorts of herbs and things.
“Do you work here?”
“Oh, uh, no– - but the owners are my friends, so I can totally help you out if you need anything.”
Dawn trailed off, blue eyes focused on shaking hands. It wasn’t that she wanted to hurt Tara’s feelings, but… she wasn’t REAL. She was a key, a thing, made up by a bunch of monks. Everything she thought she knew, all of her life before six months ago, was a lie. It hadn’t existed.She hadn’t existed.
How could any of them really love her, now that they knew that?
“I’m not real. How can you love something that’s not real?”
