All that summer, she would disappear from the house and they would find her there, at the bottom of the tower, staring towards the top, tears pouring down.

The first few times this had happened they had carried her home, quietly sobbing, and tucked her into bed. Only to find her lying on Buffy's bed in the morning.

Gradually, they stopped trying to force her home before she was ready. Tara would sit with her for hours on the tower steps, quietly talking in soothing tones, before Spike would escort them home and Dawn would fall asleep holding Tara's hand.

When the sadness became too much it would overwhelm her, burning away all feeling, leaving only anger. Anger at herself. Anger at him. Anger at them. But most of all, anger at the trees. For still being there. Reminding her of her sins. Of things she could not forget.

She found her there the first time. Standing between the trees. Trembling. Hands clenched. Eyes black. Even her fear of this person left her with the only thing she knew to do. Putting her arms around the shaking woman, Dawn would hold her until she calmed and gently lead her home.

Standing in the doorway, watching the blood drip down her arm, it couldn't be real. Was she someone's sister ? Someone's daughter ? Someone's friend ? A person ? She wasn't.

And nothing could make it hurt less. Or make her real.

Struggling with the vampire, watching the others fight. There was nothing special inside. No special feelings. No special skills. No joy in battle. No potential. She wasn't.

And nothing could make her hurt more. Or something she wasn't.

Watching from the bus. Seeing the destruction and grieving for the dead. Finally glad that there was something she wasn't.

It was a day of firsts.

Her first birthday after surviving her first real apocalypse.

Her first birthday since her sister died, for her.

The first time she buried a member of her family.

The first birthday she wouldn't be spending with her mother.

Her first birthday since she found out she was the "Key".

Her first birthday since she became a real person.

But these firsts had cost her a lot. Her mother. Her sister.

Her innocence...

Somberly tracing her sister's name, carved in cold stone, Dawn hoped next years' firsts wouldn't hurt as much.

Or be her last.

A small, light blue shirt, stretched tightly over small but enticing twin points, clearly visible like miniature round tents perched above the plateau of a small trim waist.

Feeling the ache of wanting to touch, to hold, to taste. The urge to reveal the soft, golden skin. To gaze into the bright eyes and be warmed by that beautiful smile.

Quivering in anticipation of movement. The heat of unsatiated desire keeping her flushed and in need. Watching the spinning Scythe being twirled by small but strong fingers, aching to be touched like they touched the mystical instrument of death.

Faith quietly moaned.

It is that moment when out of the corner of an eye you see movement but when turning your head you see nothing. It happens more than you realize. More than most can comprehend. Look again. Closer. See them waiting to attack. The monsters under the bed.

But you are not alone. Not anymore. You are one of us. A slayer. The vampires, the demons, evil creatures of the night all fear us. And we fight. Pushing back the darkness. Pulling the monsters into the light. We were all chosen and none refused.

Why?

It's what we were born to do.

"So Ms. Summers, I see you are claiming a deduction for a younger sister."

"Yes. She does live with me."

"You are aware that you cannot declare a mystical ball of energy as a dependant?"

"But she's my sister!"

"Not according to documents filed by the monks who created her when they applied for a social security number to go with her fake memories."

"Okay... but what about this one?"

"A home office deduction? The answer is still the same as last year. Since you don't earn any money killing vampires the tax courts consider your occupation to be a hobby which doesn't qualify for that particular deduction."