The Zeppo's Duty
Aug. 16th, 2022 09:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apachefirecatTitle: The Zeppo's Duty
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Xander/Dawn
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: Tragic events lead Xander to embark on one last, tearful mission.
Word Count: 2,031
Written For: 1 Million Words A to Z: Z (Zeppo)
Warnings: Character Deaths, Future AU
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
"Dad?"
"Come on, Dad. Mom's gone. You can't do any more to help her."
He couldn't do any more to help any of them. His entire life, he had tried. At times, he had succeeded, but they had been so rare. Ultimately, he had watched all his friends live, suffer, sometimes be happy, and always, always, eventually die. Even the one who, though she had never been supposed to be real, had often felt like the realest amongst their entire grouping of friends and loved ones, of warriors...
Their kids still didn't know. The thought came unexpectedly to Xander, who still had his head bowed before his wife's grave. They had never learned so much of their family history, but he and Dawn had always agreed that that was for the best. She certainly didn't want them learning, as she'd once put it, that she wasn't supposed to be real and just a glob of portal key energy and disrespecting her, but it was far more than that too. Their children had managed to grow up without being forced to experience the horrors they had endured in their teenage and adult years. They had stayed free and safe from all Supernatural activity, even if they hadn't known their Aunties all that much as Buffy and Willow had stayed away to keep them safe. Now they had their own children, one of whom was currently tugging on his jeans, and they, too, were free from the monsters.
That thought gave Xander the smallest of smiles as he continued to stare, through the tears still flooding from his eyes, at Dawn's grave. It didn't seem possible. They had endured so very, very much over the years, things that most of the world still didn't even know existed. Heck, they had even beaten gods! Yet cancer had struck her down.
He had watched the disease take over. For the first several years, they had not known what was wrong, but he had seen the differences in her. He had watched her falling apart, her hair falling out and her weight sky rocketing and then dropping off without even sign or reason. He had held her when she had cried when they had not known what was wrong, and when they had learned what was wrong, and then again later when she had endured treatments, when she had cried for joy when the doctors had given them the news that they had defeated the unseen and most vicious enemy at last, when she had cried out in sorrow when it had unexpectedly returned...
He had held her so many times and through so very much. His dark, wet eyes dropped to his own shoes. He'd never get to hold her again. It had finally happened. Buffy had died to protect her so many years ago. He would have gladly given his own life a thousand times over to cure her. Yet she was gone now, this time never to return again. He would never hold her, never feel her gentle hands, never wrap his hulking, lanky frame around her petite body, never get to feel her kiss or hear her voice again...
It was time, he thought, finally forcing himself to turn from his wife's grave long after his eldest daughter had retrieved the grandson attached to his leg. He knew where the old, leather-bound book was. He remembered from whence it had come, too, one of the few, unmarked books Giles had had in his possession when they had first met him all those years ago, when they had first discovered that Vampires and all the rest were real, when their lives had changed, for the worst, long before they'd been old enough to drive or have their first sexual encounters or much of anything else. They had met him, if his memory served him correctly, the day Jesse had died -- or, rather, not died but suffered a fate worse than death. He'd been the one to have to kill his best friend, and though he hadn't known what he'd been doing at the time, he had done a service to him that had been far better than continuing the new life he'd been given.
But was it really, Xander thought through the silent ride home, for the worst? Yes, he'd lost Jesse, and he'd lost his innocence. He'd been through Hell itself. But he had seen Willow blossom, and their friendship had never died whereas it would have otherwise, most likely when they'd started really dating, especially when he'd dated Cordy, of all people. He missed her sometimes, and Anya, but none of them could have ever compared to the woman his Dawnie had become. Most of all, he had met Buffy, the greatest heroine the world had ever known, and he had met Dawn, his sweet, cherished, wonderful Dawn.
She had been created by energy meant to be a portal key, and she had proven herself time and again to be an invaluable key, though never the kind they had intended for her. She had been the key to his heart when he'd thought it dead. She'd never allowed him to make himself think his heart was just a dead lump of muscle and blood for long. She had always found a way to make him love again, always found a way to make him care, until he'd ultimately fallen for her. She had been there for him when no one else had been, and in her own special way, she had been the key to every last one of them maintaining their sanity when everything they had had to endure, all the battles and trials they had had to withstand, all the times and sacrifices they'd had to make to save the world had seemed far, far too much. She had been the key that had kept them together, and the key that had kept their family together.
Now she was gone. As unthinkable as it seemed, she was gone, and with her, if he did not do something to change it, would also go their legacy. Not his. It had never been his stories to tell. Willow had started it, but she had never gotten very far. Penning the story of Tara's death had proved too much for her, and she had put the book aside and never picked it up again. It had still been in her belongings when they had collected them from England after her death. Dawn had intended to pick it up, but she'd never been able to find the heart to do so.
But their stories had to be told. Despite the visions Cordelia had been given and the name that had gone with them, he had always been the one to see everything. He had always been the Zeppo in their group, the one who had never quite fit in for he'd never possessed any magical abilities. That was one of the countless blessings Dawn had provided him: She had made him feel like he fit in even when he had not, even when he could not begin to comprehend everything they were doing. She had made him feel as important as anybody else in their group, and she had always made certain he had been heard. She had even made certain the kids had listened to him, no matter how old they'd gotten or what the subject.
Xander walked through his children now as though he could not even see them. They were all talking as if they had not just buried their mother, as if life continued already. Xander knew Dawn would tell him, if she had been there, that it had to, but he wasn't ready. He doubted he would ever be ready. He paused when he heard a beer open, but he didn't turn around to face his oldest son, who knew he had trouble with alcohol. He just kept walking. He didn't need beer. He needed the very reason he'd given it up; he needed her.
He walked to their room and not only closed but locked the door securely behind him. He was still weeping, even though he couldn't feel the tears sliding down his face. He didn't think he would ever stop, but he ignored his tears as he'd had to learn to do when he was young to help the others. Even now, he vowed, he was still helping them. Their stories had to be told. He pulled Buffy's trunk out from underneath the bed in which he had shared so many treasured memories with Dawn, and for just a moment, he remembered. Oh, what a fight that had been when he'd first had to confess to Buffy that he had gotten together with her little sister! He'd known, right there and then, that if they stayed together, he was going to have to marry the girl, but marrying her had been the best thing he had ever done.
This, he thought, would be the next. Dust wafted up from the old, leathery pages as he opened the book. It made him sneeze, but he just ignored it, something a part of his mind, somewhere in the back, buried by all the grief that was threatening to consume him, recognized that all the girls would have fussed at him over. They would have all made faces and expressions that he would have found adorable, but right now, he was on a mission, one last mission for all of them.
Gingerly, he swept his fingers over Willow's cursive scroll. He could not write as prettily or elaborately as she or Giles, but he would write their stories. He would make sure their history was taken down and, when the time was right, shared with the entire world. Their legends would live on no matter who tried to silence them. Reaching into the trunk again, he stroked Gordy and recalled that Dawn had said that it was getting about time to pass the stuffed pig to the next grandchild to play with him, but he might sleep with him himself tonight. Finding Giles' favorite quilled pen, Xander sat back, leaning against their bed, and finally began to pen the story he knew to be better and more everlasting than all the rest.
They weren't just stories, he reflected as he wrote, carefully making his marks as best he could through the onslaught of his tears that was finally beginning to slow. It was their history, his family's history, the history of the very people, and Vampires too and even one former Vengeance Demon, who had given their all time and again to save a world that had never deserved them. He had never deserved them, Xander thought, and in the moment, he could almost feel Dawn sitting there beside him, wrapping an arm around him, and kissing his cheek. He could still smell her perfume.
She would have told them, if she had been there, that he was being silly, that of course he had always deserved them, and probably even lied to him to ease his pain, sorrow, and ego and tell him that it was they who had never deserved him. She had always had a way about fabricating stories to make him feel better about whatever small role in them he had played, but he had always only been the Zeppo. It was time, he thought, for the Zeppo to complete his final duty.
I love you. I love you, Dawnie. I love you, guys. I miss you all. He always would. Life would one day have to go on, but for tonight, he sat, he remembered, and he wrote. He loved, and he knew that, no matter what, no matter what new stories may come, no matter what new hardships or sorrows, he would always, always love and miss them all the most, and his wife, the wonderful, sweet, and amazing Missus Dawn Harris, the girl who had never been supposed to be real but who had become everything to him for so many long and blessed years, and who had been, in her own special ways, the very best of them all.
The End
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Xander/Dawn
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: Tragic events lead Xander to embark on one last, tearful mission.
Word Count: 2,031
Written For: 1 Million Words A to Z: Z (Zeppo)
Warnings: Character Deaths, Future AU
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
"Dad?"
"Come on, Dad. Mom's gone. You can't do any more to help her."
He couldn't do any more to help any of them. His entire life, he had tried. At times, he had succeeded, but they had been so rare. Ultimately, he had watched all his friends live, suffer, sometimes be happy, and always, always, eventually die. Even the one who, though she had never been supposed to be real, had often felt like the realest amongst their entire grouping of friends and loved ones, of warriors...
Their kids still didn't know. The thought came unexpectedly to Xander, who still had his head bowed before his wife's grave. They had never learned so much of their family history, but he and Dawn had always agreed that that was for the best. She certainly didn't want them learning, as she'd once put it, that she wasn't supposed to be real and just a glob of portal key energy and disrespecting her, but it was far more than that too. Their children had managed to grow up without being forced to experience the horrors they had endured in their teenage and adult years. They had stayed free and safe from all Supernatural activity, even if they hadn't known their Aunties all that much as Buffy and Willow had stayed away to keep them safe. Now they had their own children, one of whom was currently tugging on his jeans, and they, too, were free from the monsters.
That thought gave Xander the smallest of smiles as he continued to stare, through the tears still flooding from his eyes, at Dawn's grave. It didn't seem possible. They had endured so very, very much over the years, things that most of the world still didn't even know existed. Heck, they had even beaten gods! Yet cancer had struck her down.
He had watched the disease take over. For the first several years, they had not known what was wrong, but he had seen the differences in her. He had watched her falling apart, her hair falling out and her weight sky rocketing and then dropping off without even sign or reason. He had held her when she had cried when they had not known what was wrong, and when they had learned what was wrong, and then again later when she had endured treatments, when she had cried for joy when the doctors had given them the news that they had defeated the unseen and most vicious enemy at last, when she had cried out in sorrow when it had unexpectedly returned...
He had held her so many times and through so very much. His dark, wet eyes dropped to his own shoes. He'd never get to hold her again. It had finally happened. Buffy had died to protect her so many years ago. He would have gladly given his own life a thousand times over to cure her. Yet she was gone now, this time never to return again. He would never hold her, never feel her gentle hands, never wrap his hulking, lanky frame around her petite body, never get to feel her kiss or hear her voice again...
It was time, he thought, finally forcing himself to turn from his wife's grave long after his eldest daughter had retrieved the grandson attached to his leg. He knew where the old, leather-bound book was. He remembered from whence it had come, too, one of the few, unmarked books Giles had had in his possession when they had first met him all those years ago, when they had first discovered that Vampires and all the rest were real, when their lives had changed, for the worst, long before they'd been old enough to drive or have their first sexual encounters or much of anything else. They had met him, if his memory served him correctly, the day Jesse had died -- or, rather, not died but suffered a fate worse than death. He'd been the one to have to kill his best friend, and though he hadn't known what he'd been doing at the time, he had done a service to him that had been far better than continuing the new life he'd been given.
But was it really, Xander thought through the silent ride home, for the worst? Yes, he'd lost Jesse, and he'd lost his innocence. He'd been through Hell itself. But he had seen Willow blossom, and their friendship had never died whereas it would have otherwise, most likely when they'd started really dating, especially when he'd dated Cordy, of all people. He missed her sometimes, and Anya, but none of them could have ever compared to the woman his Dawnie had become. Most of all, he had met Buffy, the greatest heroine the world had ever known, and he had met Dawn, his sweet, cherished, wonderful Dawn.
She had been created by energy meant to be a portal key, and she had proven herself time and again to be an invaluable key, though never the kind they had intended for her. She had been the key to his heart when he'd thought it dead. She'd never allowed him to make himself think his heart was just a dead lump of muscle and blood for long. She had always found a way to make him love again, always found a way to make him care, until he'd ultimately fallen for her. She had been there for him when no one else had been, and in her own special way, she had been the key to every last one of them maintaining their sanity when everything they had had to endure, all the battles and trials they had had to withstand, all the times and sacrifices they'd had to make to save the world had seemed far, far too much. She had been the key that had kept them together, and the key that had kept their family together.
Now she was gone. As unthinkable as it seemed, she was gone, and with her, if he did not do something to change it, would also go their legacy. Not his. It had never been his stories to tell. Willow had started it, but she had never gotten very far. Penning the story of Tara's death had proved too much for her, and she had put the book aside and never picked it up again. It had still been in her belongings when they had collected them from England after her death. Dawn had intended to pick it up, but she'd never been able to find the heart to do so.
But their stories had to be told. Despite the visions Cordelia had been given and the name that had gone with them, he had always been the one to see everything. He had always been the Zeppo in their group, the one who had never quite fit in for he'd never possessed any magical abilities. That was one of the countless blessings Dawn had provided him: She had made him feel like he fit in even when he had not, even when he could not begin to comprehend everything they were doing. She had made him feel as important as anybody else in their group, and she had always made certain he had been heard. She had even made certain the kids had listened to him, no matter how old they'd gotten or what the subject.
Xander walked through his children now as though he could not even see them. They were all talking as if they had not just buried their mother, as if life continued already. Xander knew Dawn would tell him, if she had been there, that it had to, but he wasn't ready. He doubted he would ever be ready. He paused when he heard a beer open, but he didn't turn around to face his oldest son, who knew he had trouble with alcohol. He just kept walking. He didn't need beer. He needed the very reason he'd given it up; he needed her.
He walked to their room and not only closed but locked the door securely behind him. He was still weeping, even though he couldn't feel the tears sliding down his face. He didn't think he would ever stop, but he ignored his tears as he'd had to learn to do when he was young to help the others. Even now, he vowed, he was still helping them. Their stories had to be told. He pulled Buffy's trunk out from underneath the bed in which he had shared so many treasured memories with Dawn, and for just a moment, he remembered. Oh, what a fight that had been when he'd first had to confess to Buffy that he had gotten together with her little sister! He'd known, right there and then, that if they stayed together, he was going to have to marry the girl, but marrying her had been the best thing he had ever done.
This, he thought, would be the next. Dust wafted up from the old, leathery pages as he opened the book. It made him sneeze, but he just ignored it, something a part of his mind, somewhere in the back, buried by all the grief that was threatening to consume him, recognized that all the girls would have fussed at him over. They would have all made faces and expressions that he would have found adorable, but right now, he was on a mission, one last mission for all of them.
Gingerly, he swept his fingers over Willow's cursive scroll. He could not write as prettily or elaborately as she or Giles, but he would write their stories. He would make sure their history was taken down and, when the time was right, shared with the entire world. Their legends would live on no matter who tried to silence them. Reaching into the trunk again, he stroked Gordy and recalled that Dawn had said that it was getting about time to pass the stuffed pig to the next grandchild to play with him, but he might sleep with him himself tonight. Finding Giles' favorite quilled pen, Xander sat back, leaning against their bed, and finally began to pen the story he knew to be better and more everlasting than all the rest.
They weren't just stories, he reflected as he wrote, carefully making his marks as best he could through the onslaught of his tears that was finally beginning to slow. It was their history, his family's history, the history of the very people, and Vampires too and even one former Vengeance Demon, who had given their all time and again to save a world that had never deserved them. He had never deserved them, Xander thought, and in the moment, he could almost feel Dawn sitting there beside him, wrapping an arm around him, and kissing his cheek. He could still smell her perfume.
She would have told them, if she had been there, that he was being silly, that of course he had always deserved them, and probably even lied to him to ease his pain, sorrow, and ego and tell him that it was they who had never deserved him. She had always had a way about fabricating stories to make him feel better about whatever small role in them he had played, but he had always only been the Zeppo. It was time, he thought, for the Zeppo to complete his final duty.
I love you. I love you, Dawnie. I love you, guys. I miss you all. He always would. Life would one day have to go on, but for tonight, he sat, he remembered, and he wrote. He loved, and he knew that, no matter what, no matter what new stories may come, no matter what new hardships or sorrows, he would always, always love and miss them all the most, and his wife, the wonderful, sweet, and amazing Missus Dawn Harris, the girl who had never been supposed to be real but who had become everything to him for so many long and blessed years, and who had been, in her own special ways, the very best of them all.
The End
