Characters: Dawn, Willow
Words / Rating: 370 / G
Summary: In which Dawn starts taking advantage of certain facts about this whole Key thing.
A/N: What is this? Is it...? Can it be fic?
Well, uh, I shall leave that up to you. This was written in twenty minutes in a chat window (plus some editing later) for verity (whom I'm going to see in two weeks!!!) and all I can say about it is that the Snape+Spuffy mpreg crossover now has competition for CRACKIEST THING I HAVE EVER WRITTEN.
It turns out there are perks to being made of green lightning held in some kind of matrix of mystical equilibrium. That's how Willow describes it to Dawn, anyway. A while ago, this would’ve freaked Dawn out a bit, since she's pretty sure Willow can actually see her now, really see her, like the crazy people do, which suggests either mental instability on Willow's part or something else that's possibly even scarier.
However, like we said: perks. Because Dawn’s been doing this meditation thing with Willow (with occasional bonus asides from Illyria) and she's starting to get the hang of it. Not the meditation part; that's lame and boring. But the other part, where it turns out that with a little focused thought her whole humanity is a little more malleable than it looks? Yeah. A couple of years ago, it'd have been scary, and it still kind of is, but it's also maybe the best thing ever.
Today, she came in with A Plan. There were totally caps in her head when she thought about it. So they've been sitting yoga-style for a while now - okay, maybe hours, time flies when you're restructuring the basis of your entire physical existence - and Dawn's got it all figured out in her head. Willow's guiding her along, the draftperson to Dawn’s engineering. Dawn pulls it all together, lines and planes, muscles and sinews and every quantum they’re made up of (collected in larger clusters of atoms and molecules, for easy reference) and with a push, a twist of energy that tastes like sour apples in her mouth, she makes the change.
It's Willow's gasp the wakes her out of her trance. But Willow's grinning, and Dawn grins back, because she can feel them, heavy and shifting behind her, though not as heavy as you'd think they'd be, because hey, that mystical boost has to be good for something.
Carefully Dawn stands in the center of the room, weight on the balls of her feet, arms out for balance, and she unfurls her new wings. They're wide as the room, tip to tip, and green, of course, as jewel-bright as a parrot's.
She doesn't actually know how to make them fly yet.
But she will.
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