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"Come on, Willow," she complained, trying to moderate the volume of her voice—not easy when one was the size of a ten-story apartment complex—and failing.
Willow gamely tried to hide her wince at the booming sound. "I'm sorry, Dawn, I just…can't. Buffy, she... Well, she was just so hurt by what Giles did—"
"Oh, sure. Whatever we can do to spare poor Buffy's feelings."
"That's not fair—"
"What about my feelings? Buffy's feet don't get wet every time it rains because the barn she sleeps in isn't big enough. Buffy doesn't have to wear the same clothes—the same bra, the same underwear—every single day. Buffy is still able to go places and see people, she isn't stuck eating roasted pig carcasses and wheels of cheese—Big Mac's aren't that big, Willow!"
Sad-Willow face to the fore, she floated up to be even with Dawn's face. "Oh, honey. I know it's hard, but I'm trying to figure it out. It's just with this new bad, and Kennedy's been…kinda dead…"
"Yeah. I get it."
"Maybe, after I finish the new warding spell on the northwestern turret—you know, the one that keeps out birds, cause, you know, Vi's kinda…phobic? Not that you don't, since…even being a giant you would have heard the screaming. Uh, do you hear better or worse, now?"
"Uhm…better? I mean, they're bigger so…" She shrugged; trust Willow to ask such a weird question.
Still, it was a good question.
"Oh. Well, anyways, maybe then I can get some serious research time and we'll nip this problem in the bud. Alright?"
"Whenever you're ready. I'll be here."
Willow beamed and, twirling in mid-air, she floated away.
"Not as if I could go anywhere like this," Dawn muttered darkly, watching her go.
When Dawn was younger, she'd always felt invisible in the shadow of Buffy; the little sister, always tucked away in a corner. Well, until a hellgod decided she'd make a nice housewarming—or maybe bodywarming?—present, but after that, things had pretty much gone back to the norm.
Strange that even at eighty feet tall she was still invisible.
Still, it worked to her benefit, so, as annoying as it was, she didn't knock it.
Especially when it turned out that Dawn's hearing was actually still quite good. She did, on occasion, have trouble with higher pitches; Willow, in particular, could be quite squeaky when she got excited, but overall, it came in quite handy when Willow, Buffy and Xander were having 'secret meetings'.
Apparently, they forgot that she had no problems hovering right outside a fifth-story window.
She leaned closer.
"I still can't believe it."
"Buffy, maybe you should calm—"
"And then she tries to kill me—I should have known, tigers don't change their spots, after all."
"Leopards, Buffy."
"Whatever. The point is that now Giles is Faith's Watcher, and doesn't that disturb your Force?"
"Buffy—"
"Well, I mean, there are vampires in Derbyshire, aren't there?"
"Xander!"
Pulling away from the castle wall, she smiled.
Giles wasn't too far away.
And with legs as long as hers, it'd take no time at all.
Of course, she'd have to be careful where she stepped.
The trip took longer than she thought, simply because asking for directions? Not easy when people run screaming even before you can open your mouth.
Still, one terrified motorist was able to point her in the right direction before gunning his engine and racing towards escape.
She wasn't concerned, though; a good night's sleep and they'd all wake up thinking they'd had a really bizarre dream.
Eventually, she found the house, spotting a tiny whirling figure in the front yard picking on what looked like a scarecrow.
"Hey Faith."
Faith squinted up into the bright sunshine. "D. I see you came travel-sized."
"Yeah. What can I say? I don't travel light."
"What brings you to our neck?"
"I wanted to see Giles—is he around? I'm having this teeny-tiny problem and I need his help."
Just then, the door opened, and Giles strode out. "Faith, I need you to—" he paused, looking up and blinking repeatedly, "Great…Dawn."
"That's me, all great and great-y."
"Did you come here alone?"
"I'm a big girl now, emphasis on big." She shrugged. "I walked."
"And let how many unaware citizens see you? That's highly irresponsible."
"Oh, please," Faith butted in. "Barbeque forks? Really?"
Giles winced, giving his glasses an obligatory wipe before sliding them back in place. "Perhaps you have a point. Now, more to the matter at hand—what happened?"
Dawn sighed; she really hated this part.
"I sorta sleptwithathricewise," she muttered. Unfortunately, being a giant also gave her a giant voice, so she was heard all the same.
"Oh, dear."
"A thricewise? Giles, a little help, here?"
"A thricewise is… well, perhaps it would be better if you explained, Dawn, having had such…intimate experience with one."
"Ha. Ha. Look who's a comedian." Crossing her arms over her chest, she scowled at the tiny British man. Funny how that was so much more effective in super-IMAX size. "I…don't really know."
"You slept with something and you don't know what it is? Looks like B's genes are alive and kickin', huh?"
"He looked human, okay? Just a normal, guy-y-looking guy. No horns, no tentacles, no fangs…just a guy."
"And then you…"
"Grew seventy-four feet overnight."
"Oh, dear."
"Quit holding out, Giles—what's a thrice-wise?"
"I…I'm afraid I really don't know."
"Crap."
"Quite."
"Do you think you could help?"
"I...I'll be glad to look into it. But surely Willow—"
"Is too busy running laps for Buffy, and the other witches in the coven didn't even know how I got this way. It was that old witch—the one that smells like gorgonzola?—that told me he was a thricewise."
"I see. Under other circumstances I would wonder if Madame Fayweth knew something I didn't, however, I suspect… Well, I would like to do some research before I draw any conclusions." Brow furrowed, he stalked back into the house.
"Guess it's just you and me, D."
"Guess so."
"Well, at least having you around will help with my climbing skills," Faith said as she grabbed two hands-full of Dawn's sweater and scrabbled her way upwards.
Dawn squirmed as she scaled the curve of her breast. "Faith, that tickles!"
"Whoa! Stop moving the mountain!"
"Stop tickling me!"
Finally, Faith came to rest on her shoulder.
She whistled under her breath. "Nice view."
"Yeah."
"So, how's it being a giant?"
"Pretty boring. I've been wearing the same clothes for ages, and I have to take a bath in the lake—and lake water? Just as icky as it looks—and when it rains, I sleep in a barn."
"Huh." Faith frowned. "So they don't have you helping out, then?"
"Helping?"
"If it were me, I'd have you putting those size three-hundreds to work. Beasties squash as well as anything." She tapped her foot against Dawn's shoulder in demonstration.
"Huh. I didn't think about that."
"You should."
"What? With you?"
"Sure. I don't mind a hand. Or a foot."
Dawn grinned. "Color my Skechers yours, then."
Stomping on vampires was exactly as fun as it sounded.
Great puffs of dust billowed around her feet as she giggled and squashed some more.
And she only almost stepped on Faith once.
"Hey, watch it, Bigfoot!"
"Oops! Sorry!"
Or twice.
"What, so it's all in my head?"
"Technically… well, not exactly. Your origins…"
"Key. Monks. Energy. Read the Cliff's notes, get on with it."
Giles raised an eyebrow and continued, "Your origins, being mystical in nature, leave me to believe that perhaps you're exhibiting a sort of need-based magic—"
"Oh, so you're Wicca-girl now, huh?" Faith said from her perch on Dawn's shoulder, her breath tickling Dawn's earlobe.
"Actually, Wicca is a religion. And while it does have mystical or magical aspects, not every witch practices Wicca. But that's entirely beside the point, which, I do believe I've forgotten."
"Me. Magic. Giant."
"Yes, well—"
Her attention was drawn by a tug on her ear. "You're sounding kinda beanstalky, D. Sure that your brain grew with the rest of you?"
"Shuttup, Faith," she whispered.
"—need to be recognized… Excuse me, are you even listening?"
"I wish I wasn't. So, when Buffy ignored me, I—through some weird wishing-magic—made myself…"
"…too big to ignore."
"She's done a pretty good job thus far."
"Yes, well. Buffy has always been extraordinarily capable of…focusing."
"Yeah. On Angel's tonsils." Faith snorted.
"Or Spike's," she added.
"Yes, well."
"I'm sorry Giles, I'm not sure I buy this. Need magic? I don't need to be a giant—what I need right now is a hamburger. With ketchup. And extra pickles." Flinging her hands in the air, she threw her head back and cried to the heavens, "I need a hamburger!" Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked back down at Giles. "See? No hamburger."
"I'm afraid it doesn't quite work like that. You're unfocused, untrained… Still, the potential for magical manipulation and…sheer havoc is undeniable."
"Aww, our little D, all grown up and causing mischief." Faith gave her a sideways glance. "I always knew I liked you."
She stuck her tongue out before turning back to Giles.
"But you're saying I could possibly conjure a hamburger from thin air?"
"With the proper training, perhaps."
"Sign me up for Hogwarts, then."
"I beg your pardon?"
"But do I have to have an owl? 'Cause, they’re kinda creepy."
"Gotta go with D on this one, Giles."
"I'm quite sure I don't know what you're talking about."
"School. For witches. For giant witches, I guess."
"Ah. I believe it would be prudent to train you here…away from the populace, as it were."
"Only if I still get to squish vampires."
"I'm sure something can be arranged."
"Alright, then."
As Giles went to make lesson plans, Faith leaned closer, her head resting against Dawn's neck. "A girl could get lazy with you around."
"That's alright. You just relax and enjoy; I'll do all the work."
Faith leered, stretching out on Dawn's shoulder. "Looks like little sis has grown a wicked tongue."
"Yup." She quipped. "Too bad it's like, longer than your body."
"Hey that could be—"
"Gross."
"Yeah. Guess you're right."
"Great—" she grimaced "—now I've got to bleach my eyeballs. Do you know how much bleach that's gonna take?"
She was jerked out of her musings on how trees looked a lot like broccoli when you were…huge, when Faith dumped a large plastic bag at her feet.
Out tumbled a mountain of hamburgers.
"Oh my… Faith!"
"Ketchup, extra pickles, right?"
"Yes! Where did you get the money for all these?"
Faith shrugged. "The new and improved Council gives a stipend."
"You shouldn't have…" She closed her eyes and inhaled blissfully. Reaching down, she tried to pluck one of the burgers from the pile.
"Hold on," Faith said, grabbing her finger. "You'll smush it." She snagged a burger and unwrapped it—"Hold out your hand"—and proceeded to place it and nine other unwrapped sandwiches in Dawn's palm. Stepping back, she grinned. "There you go."
Dawn popped the handful into her mouth and groaned; it was quite possibly the most wonderful thing she'd ever tasted.
"Omigod, I think I love you." Swallowing, she missed Faith's blush and the quick cut of dark eyes to her face.
"Yeah, well. Just leave me some."
Dawn held out her hand. "You might want to put a few aside, then."
"Already did."
Dawn grinned as another hamburger was placed in her hand.
"You know, you could call me Dawn."
"I could."
"But you won't."
"Nah. Everyone else calls you that."
"Yeah, but they…"
"They what?"
"…Never mind."
"Now focus. Breathe evenly and deeply, keep your eyes on the target—"
"Keep my eyes on it? I can barely see it! Why do I have to learn to levitate a pencil again?"
"Because a novice witch levitating tree limbs could be extremely hazardous to my health."
She sighed. "Fine." Squinting, she stared at the tiny yellow stick. Float, dammit, she thought.
It did—"Oh! It worked!"—and then promptly flew, straight as an arrow, through the windshield of Giles' approaching car. Faith, the unfortunate driver, ducked behind the steering wheel, one hand reaching up to pluck it out of the air before it embedded itself in the seat cushion.
"Oops. Sorry, Faith!" Brows furrowed, she watched as Faith climbed out of the vehicle.
"No worries, D. Five by five." Faith shook herself off, then deposited the pencil in Giles' waiting hands.
He turned serious eyes to Dawn. "My point."
"Taken."
"Oh, don't be such a priss, D."
"No."
"It'd be killer."
"It'd be dangerous."
"Oh, come on—Slayer here."
"Just because you're a Slayer, doesn't mean you're invincible."
"D, I…"
"Just don't, okay?"
"Alright."
"Got a crawly-creep needs slayin'. Giles needs some help going through the lit, and I'm no research-girl."
"Yay! Research!"
"You are one weird chick, D."
"Hey, everyone needs a hobby."
Faith shrugged. "Whatever floats. So, you gonna help us out or what?"
"Sure. Just not sure how I'll read the tiny type."
"Oh." Faith dropped the books and dashed back into the house, returning with an…enormous magnifying glass on her back. "Almost forgot—Giles magicked this for you."
She plucked the glass from Faith's grasp. "This is so awesome. Do you know how long it's been since I've read something? Ages, that's how long. Oh, are they all in English? Or is there one in Ancient Sumerian? Please say there's one in Ancient Sumerian."
"Damn, D. Chill, will ya?"
Blushing, Dawn tried to explain, "Only, I was studying modal prefixes before, and I didn't want to get rusty."
"Yeah. I hate it when that happens. Now, what am I looking for?" She bent over to survey the stack.
"Something with a lot of geometric shapes—lines and squares and triangles?"
"How about this one?" Picking up the book, Faith held it open for Dawn's perusal.
"Nope."
"This one?"
"Mmmm..Uh uh."
"This one?"
"Oh, yay! You found one!" Grinning, she reached out to take the book, which slipped between her fingers.
Luckily, Faith snagged it before it could hit the ground and likely become damaged.
"Oops."
"Tell you what," Faith said, grabbing one of Dawn's fingers and swinging up into her open palm, "I'm pretty much useless at this research shtick"—she plopped down, wriggling around until she was comfortable, then opened the book—"but I can turn pages."
Dawn didn't answer; she was already reading.
"—utterly imperative that you maintain skin contact at all times. One slip, and whatever passers-by are in the vicinity will undoubtedly notice a flying woman…"
Faith raised an eyebrow.
"…which you will most assuredly resemble when you appear and Dawn remains invisible."
"Got it. Skin-on-skin." Faith leaned closer to Dawn's ear, her hair brushing against Dawn's neck. "Sounds sexy."
Craning head around as far as she could, she looked at Faith through the corner of her eye. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"What gave you that idea, D? The millions of times I've asked?" Faith's grin was infectious; she had to fight to keep from answering it.
"Is this a bad time to mention I dropped Andrew?"
"Huh. Bet the little pissant enjoyed that, didn't he?"
"Oddly enough, it didn't really faze him."
"Hey. Relax. I bounce, okay?"
"Ha. Ha."
"If you're quite finished, I'll set the cloaking spell. Some of us have work to do."
"Sorry, Giles."
"Ready, set."
Giles began chanting under his breath, sprinkling an icky brown powder over her shoes.
Her nose twitched; she recognized the sharp, sweet smell of myrrh and the bitter tang of dillweed.
When he'd finished her feet, he placed two hands-full of the powder in her palm. He continued to chant while she distributed the remainder of the powder over herself and Faith.
She tried not to sneeze.
Suddenly, she became aware of a faint squeezing sensation, as if she were being wrapped in a sheet.
"Ah. It's worked, then."
"Wow. This is great, Giles!" She smiled, but he couldn't see it. "Why didn't anyone think of this before?"
"You have Faith to thank for that. She—ah, stirred my memory."
She turned to peer at Faith. "Really?"
Faith shrugged. "I figured, with all the shit magic can do, why not turn you invisible for a while?"
"Do take care where you step."
Standing, she called over her shoulder, "Sure thing, Giles."
The countryside was beautiful. Of course, it always had been, but a beautiful cage was still a cage.
Walking around, free to come and go as she pleased, was…wonderful.
Even with Faith's chipmunk voice laughing in her ear.
"Come on, D. Doesn't this thing go any faster?"
"Do you want me to drop you?"
"No. I want you to live a little."
"Living is what got me here."
Faith was silent a moment, staring into the distance as if examining the ant-like cars scuttling along a distant road. "It seems to me," her voice was soft, almost uncharacteristically so, "that living is what's going to get you out of this."
"Huh." She kept her attention on the road; soon, the cars were out of sight and the world was still.
Grinning, she reached up and slid a finger beneath her bra strap to pull it away from her skin. "Hold on."
Faith's expression brightened as she slipped her arm beneath the strap. "What're we waiting for? Let's get this show on!"
Laughing, Dawn began to run.
"You're just sore that I squished more vampires than you staked," she commented to the figure on her shoulder as she stepped over a small grove of trees.
"I still say that last one doesn't count—just because you tripped over a car and fell on it doesn't mean you get credit."
"Is he dusty?"
"Not the point."
"Sore. Loser." She raised an eyebrow before returning her attention to where her feet were headed, only a bit too late. With a splash and a yelp, she stepped into a pond, ankle-deep. Arms flailing, she knocked Faith from her perch.
Scrambling, Faith latched onto the first bit of flesh she could find and dangled from Dawn's lip for a moment before her foot found a hold in the collar of Dawn's t-shirt.
Pulling her foot from the pond, Dawn stepped away and slowly straightened, eyes nearly crossing as she looked down at Faith's tiny face. Something small and warm stirred in her stomach as a warm—and kinda moist—hand slid along her jawline.
"Dawn…" Faith's voice, softer than usual, barely reached her ears, but she couldn't help responding to the plea.
"Faith."
Unfortunately, as soon as her lips moved, Faith lost her footing and began to fall. She reached for the falling figure, but the small warmth in her stomach began to expand, and the world grew as Faith slipped through her fingertips.
He knees folded; she felt a bit like she had when Buffy, then ten, had stuffed five-year-old Dawn into a suitcase to carry her to Grandma's.
Everything spun, a kaleidoscope of green and blue, as she hit the ground.
"Ouch." She blinked the world into rightness before cautiously sitting up.
The trees were huge again.
"You can say that again."
She peered into the twilight at Faith, who had pulled herself off the ground and was dusting off the seat of her pants, grumbling.
"Faith?"
Looking up, Faith smiled.
"Look who's not super-sized anymore."
She'd never seen that look on Faith's face. It was terrifying. And she was feeling a little warm, again.
Crossing the space between them at a jog, Faith pulled Dawn to her feet.
Her breath caught in her throat at she stared into Faith's brown eyes. The world began spinning again, faster, blurring now as Faith leaned closer, eyes flickering closed.
"Dawn…"
She gasped at the sound of her name on Faith's lips, yet again. Who knew it would sound so sexy?
Faith's breath was warm against her mouth; she leaned closer…
…and the warmth in her stomach turned to ice.
She stumbled away, hands raised defensively.
"Dawn?"
"How do I…How do I know this isn't some sort of scheme to get back at Buffy?"
With the flip of a switch, Faith's expression closed. Crossing her arms over her chest, she scowled. "Not everything has to do with Saint Buffy."
"Shows what you know," a voice came, unexpectedly, from behind her.
She wheeled around.
"Buffy."
"B." Faith acknowledged before turning abruptly and stomping off into the woods.
Dawn felt the strangest urge to follow, but a hand gripped her arm tightly and tugged in the opposite direction as the house.
"Come on, Dawn. Time to go home."
Digging her heels in, Dawn stalled. "I want my stuff."
"What stuff?" Buffy asked, hands on her hips. "You've been wearing the same clothes for months."
"I. Want. My. Stuff." Clenching her jaw, she stormed off towards the house.
It took much longer to get across the pasture when only just under six feet tall.
She exited the house, one neatly folded burger-wrapper and a stake she'd snagged from Faith's dresser stashed in her pockets.
Buffy and Giles were arguing—as if that was new.
What was new was that they were arguing about her.
"She needs magical training, Buffy. It's imperative. The consequences could be…"
"She'll get it."
"Willow, however much improved her outward behavior seems to be, is not up to the task. I fear the temptation would be—"
"So, we'll get the Garbanzola lady to do it."
"Gorgonzola!" she interjected.
"Yeah, her."
"Well, I suppose Madame Fayweth would be adequate, provided she—"
"She's fine. Dawn, let's go," Buffy barked out, storming towards a glowing portal—Willow just visible through the mostly opaque light.
Tears pricking her eyes, she threw her arms around Giles's neck.
"Thanks so much. For everything."
"Not at all." He returned the embrace, squeezing her tightly. "You're welcome at any time." He pulled away, dabbing at his eyes with his shirt sleeve. "Don't be a stranger."
Dawn smiled, sadly. She was going to miss him almost as much as…
"Tell her…"
Giles paused in his dabbing, glancing at her questioningly.
"Just tell her I'm sorry," she said, turning and slipping through the portal before she could say anything more.
"Slowly…slowly… Keep your focus."
Eyes riveted to the array of plates before her, she breathed out as evenly as possible, fingers clenched in the material of her jeans.
And then they began to spin.
She squealed an internal 'yay'—having quickly learned that verbal ones interrupted her concentration and resulted in Buffy griping about having to buy new dinnerware—and slowly let the dishes down to rest against the table.
Her eyes slid shut as she inhaled, a tiny smile stretching her lips.
They were few and far between, nowadays, but today, it was well-deserved; after four months of hard work, she had finally reached the level of control she needed to move past levitation and into conjuring.
"Wow, Dawn, that was great!"
She opened her eyes as Willow came bounding in the room, smiling at Madame Fayweth, who rose from her crouch with much more ease than a woman her age should display and, nodding at Dawn, turned and gathered her things before leaving the room.
"Thanks." She rose, herself, and snagged her bag from the floor.
"That's some heavy-duty levitation you've got going on, there."
"Yeah. And I only had to break three windows, fifty-three plates and Xander's arm before getting it down."
"Well, Buffy will be happy—she really likes this set, you know."
"Like I care."
"Dawn…"
"No. You don't get to talk to me about this. You're her best friend, and I get that. It's fine, really. But I can't talk to you about her. It's not fair. To me or to her."
Willow frowned, looking like a lost puppy. "I guess you're right."
They walked in silence, their footsteps echoing through the mostly-bare hallway.
"I just wish there was someone you could talk to."
Dawn's jaw clenched. "There is—we've talked about this."
"I know, but…Faith?"
"Look. I know you guys weren't the greatest of buds back in Sunnydale, but she's changed…a lot. And I…," she sighed, slumping against the wall and pushing the hair back from her face, "I really owe her an apology for not realizing that sooner."
Willow smiled, softly—a look Dawn hadn't seen on her face in…years. Since Tara died, maybe.
"She's that important?"
Her eyes slid shut as she nodded. "Yeah."
She slipped through the portal easily, eyes fastening onto the whirling figure beating the crap out of a sandbag immediately.
Déjà-vu, and it was a welcome visitor; last time she'd been here, Faith had changed her life.
She hoped to return the favor.
Dropping her suitcase to the ground, she began to run.
"Faith!"
Turning at the sound of her voice, Faith didn't have time to respond before Dawn launched herself against Faith's body. They landed in a sprawl of limbs.
"I'm so sorry," Dawn whispered against Faith's lips, caressing the soft flesh there with her mouth—tiny, gentle kisses—as her fingers tangled in Faith's dark hair.
Then Faith's hands slid up her back, cupping her skull and angling her head just so, and then it was hot and wet and Faith's hungry moans tingled, all the way from her head to her toes, and it wasn't magic and it wasn't destiny, but it felt like something she'd always been missing.
It felt a lot like love.
FIN.
Originally archived here.