"You know, the beauty of living in an estate full of Slayers is being secure in the knowledge that anyone who tried to break in would get their ass thoroughly kicked," Dawn said from the door, watching Xander check all the windows in the library.
He turned around and smiled at the sound of her voice. "Yeah, well. Lets a guy feel useful, you know? I want to retain some of my masculine patriarchal power."
She grinned and walked into the large room, running her fingers over one shelf of books in her path. "Libraries smell like home to me now," she said, curling up into one of the leather chairs.
"Luckily you're in a country that thrives on them," Xander replied, sitting next to her. "How was the plane ride?"
"Good. It was long, like it always is. Never actually gets any more enjoyable, flying across the ocean, for all the number of times I've done it now." She picked at a loose thread on the arm of the chair.
"That is why Xander Harris has worked to completely put himself into English society, for Xander Harris does not like the airplane."
She smiled at him, amused. "I guess turning British has the side affect of adding the third person to your repertoire?"
He nodded. "Oh, yes. For Xander Harris has learned from the master of all things British, Headmaster Rupert Giles."
She laughed then. "Do you think he'll ever get used to that title? With all the girls calling him Headmaster? I remember the first time someone did it--he seemed so shocked."
They got quiet, listening to the low mumble of the school falling asleep and enjoying each other's company. As the school grew, it seemed as though their weird little family grew farther apart. Buffy divided her time between being on location and teaching, like Faith did; they were still locating the Watchers still alive who had fled and scattered when the news of a killing spree had become more than just idle speculation.
Even so, they had all made the Summers' school their home as well as their headquarters. It was May, and school had ended; Dawn had come home from her first year of grad school with a new pair of glasses and an even more sober outlook. If anyone was taking a page out of the Rupert Giles book, it was her; she had completed her bachelor's in Occult Science and Mythological Demonology at the Harrold University in northern Washington State, a small school with an eclectic focus that was in the pamphlets on Watcher Studies she and Giles had pored over after she'd completed her independent education to the satisfaction of the United States school system.
That was now the focus of her masters and, eventually, her PhD, at UC Santa Cruz. They were all proud of her, helping fund her small apartment and give her some freedom with her life. Soon enough she'd have to come back and take a position in the school, but Buffy was adamant that she have the opportunity to live her own life before taking on the responsibilities of a watcher.
Actually, if Buffy had her way, Dawn would have been so far from the school she would have been living in Pleasantville. But the world of monsters and vampires and saving the day was too engendered in her blood, and now the argument was so worn and old and pointless that it seemed Dawn and Buffy could have the entire fight with a look, never saying a word.
Now it was summer, a time off from teaching for Dawn and an opportunity for everyone to be together again, even if it was for a short while. Buffy had finally given up on getting any number of them together for the major holidays, so instead she mandated that everyone be present for a summer reunion. Most people obeyed, because Buffy was still pretty formidable, even in a sea of well-trained Slayers and fighters and Watchers. She had grown up as much as any of them, taking on her role as teacher and Slayer and Watcher all in one with vigor she never possessed before.
The lights in the school were slowly clicked off, abiding by the unspoken lights out by one am rule. Xander was beginning to drop off, the wear of the day taking toll on him. He kept the grounds, fixing things as they needed to be fixed, caring for the gardens and in general being a smashing handyman. He sometimes missed his old life, living in Sunnydale and leading a crew, coming home to his own apartment and then fighting evil after dinner. This, at times, seemed all too easy in comparison. It was difficult to find excuses to fight in a world where there were so many others who could do it better than you.
Xander learned to find satisfaction in working with his hands, caring for everyone with a heart that belied his frustration. He became a decent mechanic, a cook, an electrician--anything that was needed, really, he learned. He was surprised to find one day that he enjoyed what he did, helping catalogue the hundreds of books that were shipped to the library in the early days of the school and cleaning out rooms to make place for classes and dormitories. It was nice to have a purpose again.
When Xander next looked at Dawn, he smiled to discover her asleep, breathing softly, curled up in the chair. He lifted her gently, resting her head against his shoulder and trying not to pull the long hair that spilled over his arms. He took her from the library and carried her to her room on the other side of the building, nodding at the people he passed in the halls.
As he put her down on the bed, taking off her shoes and covering her with the blanket, he murmured, "It's good to have you back, Dawn."
He heard her reply, "I'm glad to be home," as he was leaving.
words © SA. characters, show, and people not mine. no infringement is intended.