"Dawn? Are you okay, honey?" I asked as I sat down next to her.

She didn't answer, just kept staring at one of the pictures in the album. I leaned over to get a better look.

It was the four of us, Buffy, Dawn, Hank and me. We were standing in front of a stone wall and we all had those ridiculous mouse ears on. We looked so happy.

"That's when we went to Disneyland for your birthday. We asked Goofy to take the picture because he was your favorite. Do you remember? You were awfully young."

She looked up at me, and her eyes were dead. "I remember. But it never happened. It wasn't real."

She started to cry. Silently at first, tears rolling down her cheeks and no expression at all on her face. When I put my arms around her and hugged her close, she broke, sobbing loudly and crawling into my lap like she did when she was just a baby.

I held her while she cried. I rocked her back and forth and I held her, just like when she was a baby. My baby. My Dawn.

Finally, the tears stopped and she just lay there in my arms, leaning against me with her head buried in my neck. When she'd calmed down, I kissed the top of her head and whispered into her ear.

"It was real, honey."

She shook her head violently against me. "It never happened!" Her voice was muffled against my body, but I understood her easily enough.

"It happened, Dawn. It did."

She raised her head to look into my eyes. "How can you say that? You know the truth, the same as me, Mom."

I nodded slowly, trying to come up with a way to get through to her. Then it hit me.

"I used to smoke cigars."

All she could do was look at me in bewilderment. I had to smile at the confusion in her eyes.

"I did. It was my grandfather who got me started. My mother's father. Fred Sullivan. Everyone called him Sully, and by the time I was ten, he had me calling him Sully too. Your grandmother never liked that. She always said I should have more respect for my elders, but he'd always laugh and say he didn't want to be an elder, he just wanted to be Sully. Drove her nuts, but she'd always end up laughing along with him. Those were good times." I trailed off, lost in the memories.

Dawn's voice brought me back. "He taught you to smoke?" She was horrified.

I laughed. "I suppose it sounds like child abuse these days, but he'd started smoking when he was thirteen years old. He didn't see anything wrong with it. He got me started when I was fourteen. I'd been watching him smoke for years. Always cigars, but all different brands. Mostly they smelled awful, but every once in awhile he'd have some that smelled pretty good. And sometimes people he knew would send him Cubans. Those always smelled great. I always wanted to try one, but I was afraid to ask. So I just sat there with him while he smoked.

"I was his favorite grandchild. That's a horrible thing to say, but it's the truth. He told me himself, and he never lied. He loved all of us, but he got along best with me. I never knew why, and I never questioned it. I used to be down there just about every day after school, ever since I was a kid. He and my grandmother used to take care of me until my parents got home from work. Grandma Sullivan died when I was eleven, and after that it was just the two of us every afternoon. We did everything together. He was always working on fixing the house up. I was never any good with the tools, but he let me help anyway. And when we didn't feel like working anymore, we'd go and sit on the porch and talk while we waited for my parents to get home. And he'd smoke his cigars."

I looked down at Dawn. She was still confused, but she wasn't thinking about being the Key, so I figured I was doing something right. I kissed her forehead before going on. "About a week after my fourteenth birthday he asked me if I wanted to try one. I tried to be casual, but I was pretty excited. And of course the first puff almost made me throw up. He laughed and I laughed with him and he taught me to smoke cigars. And from then on, I'd smoke one with him sometimes while we waited for my parents. Not every day, maybe a couple of times a week."

"What did Grandma and Grandpa say?"

I chuckled. "They never knew. Sully had a long driveway, and we could see them coming in plenty of time to get rid of the evidence. We only did it for about a year, anyway, until he died." I saw the look in Dawn's eyes and answered the question before she asked it. "It wasn't cancer. He choked on a steak he made for dinner one night. His lungs were fine. But I I didn't want to press my luck. Besides, it wasn't as much fun alone, so I quit. Mostly. Every once in awhile I'd go to the cemetery and smoke a cigar and talk to him. He helped me with a lot of my problems that way. Just talking about them made it easier, and I'd swear I could hear him giving me advice. God, I haven't been to see him in years. I should go see him again. He'd like that."

I smiled down at Dawn, and she smiled back. It was a small smile, but it did my heart good to see it. She was still confused though. "That's a great story, Mom, but what does it have to do with anything?"

I reached up to brush some hair out of her eyes before I answered. "I've never told anyone about that before. No one, not even your father. You and I and Sully are the only ones who know it ever happened. So was it real?"

She saw where I was headed, and she didn't like it. "Of course it was real. That's different." She tried to get off my lap, but I didn't let her. I held on until she stopped struggling and settled down against me again. She wasn't happy about it, but she wasn't trying to get away any more, so I figured I'd take what I could get.

"Memories are all we really have of the past, Dawn. Sully and I, the cigars - that's only in my head now. There's no way I could ever prove it really happened. But it was real. I was there, and I remember it, and it was real. It is real."

She wouldn't look at me, so I put my hand under her chin and moved her head until she looked me in the eye. "Everything we are is inside our heads, Dawn. All a human being really is, is memories of the past and hopes and dreams for the future. You've got all of those, just like I do. You're just as real as I am."

She shook her head and started crying again. "It's not the same. It's not. You know I'm not really your daughter..."

I pulled her against me and held her as tightly as I could. "Don't you say that, Dawn, please don't ever say that. You're my daughter, Dawn. You're my baby girl. You always have been and you always will be, and that's the truth. That's real."

She wanted to believe me, but she couldn't. "It's not the same, Mom. I'm not real."

Again I moved her head until she looked at me. "Do you remember when you were six and you fell off the roof?"

She nodded. "But..."

I cut her off. "No buts. I remember it, too. Buffy was over playing at Emily's. Your father was putting new shutters on the upstairs windows and he left the ladder against the house to come help me unload the groceries from the car. We were going to have chicken for dinner. I don't know why I remember that, but I do. And when we came out of the house for the second batch of groceries, we saw you on the roof. You waved to us. You were so proud. Then you moved back towards the ladder. And you slipped."

I shuddered. "That was the worst moment of my life. You slipped and you fell and it was like someone had stabbed me in the heart. I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe, all I could do was watch you fall. You didn't make a sound. I remember wondering why you weren't screaming. It used to be that you'd scream at the drop of a hat, if you stubbed your toe or if your ice cream was too melted or whatever, but falling off the roof of the house you didn't make a sound.

"Until you hit the ground. I heard a horrible thud and a crack, and then you screamed. And I couldn't move, for a second I couldn't move, and then I was running towards you but it was like I was moving in slow motion.

"Your father got to you first, he moved faster than anything I've ever seen and he got to you first. I was a second behind him and I got there just as he was picking you up. Your leg was bent all wrong and you were screaming. We both carried you to the car and I held you all the way to the hospital and I was crying and your father was crying and you were screaming so loudly, I thought my eardrums would burst but I was so glad because it meant you were alive, if you were screaming you were alive, and that's all that mattered."

I didn't realize I was crying until Dawn reached up to wipe away my tears. "It's okay, Mom. I'm okay now."

I smiled at her, but I kept crying. "I know, honey. But I was so scared. When we got you to the hospital they said it was a clean break and you were going to be fine. We were so relieved, but I was still scared. I think that's half of what being a parent is, being scared something's going to happen to your baby."

I looked at her. I looked at my baby girl. "That was real, Dawn. I don't care what any monks say or what some airhead goddess thinks. I was there and it was real. Every time I think about that day it feels like someone is tearing my heart out and I'm so scared I think I'm going to die. There's no way that's not real, baby, and there's no way you're not my daughter."

My tears had stopped, but they started right up again when Dawn started crying and hugged me tight. We cried together for a few minutes. I held her while we cried. I rocked her back and forth and I held her, just like when she was a baby. My baby. My Dawn.