She might also use "mija" which is sort of an abbreviation of "mi hija"/my daughter. She could also use "mi cielo" o "corazon". She might use the character's name with "ita" on the end, a diminutive and also a term of endearment. So, if she was me she could be "Gatita" for example. Huh, I just thought that would make ita "itaita", which gave me a good giggle.

Well, since I wounded the thread with the horrible "itaita" joke (sorry) I might as well go on and finish it off. Here's my original drabble, the one that started me on fan fiction and was spoilery before but not now since nothing is spoilery now. Sigh. I'm not entirely happy with it, but I do have a soft spot for it because it was my first baby. It's grown a little since the original 100 words. The theme was gun/hotel room.

"Pinewood Motel. Room 223. Stay there."

It shouldn’t be like this. She was supposed to be fighting, not in some roadside motel. She’d tried so hard to help. It hadn’t mattered. Everybody still thought of her as a little girl.

Xander had put her in the trunk. “Bastard.” She muttered. Ooh, she’d called Xander a bastard. She giggled, then caught herself. No wonder nobody took her seriously.

Was this Buffy’s idea of showing her the world? One motel at a time. No thanks. She walked to the closet, recoiling as her bare feet touched the stained carpet. The gun was on the floor, sleek and black. It had been easy to get. Pretty young girl. Old drunk. Sleazy bar. It wasn’t a big leap from klepto to pickpocket. She picked it up.

The click of the door opening almost made her drop the stupid thing. “Dawn, I brought some donuts. Thought we could watch a little Three Stooges. You up for it?” Her whole body tensed. For a minute, she thought she couldn’t do it. This was Xander. Then, she remembered Buffy in the cold, hard ground. That wouldn’t happen again. She turned around and aimed.

“I’d rather go home.”

• ****

“What is it with me and women? No matter how well things start out, they always end up with me facing death. Well, at least I’m not strapped to some wheel of pain or being menaced by some praying mantis de... Oh no. You’re not a demon now, are you?”

“What? No. Xander!”

“Just checking.” If he could just keep her talking, find out what happened in the short time that he’d been gone. “So where’d you get the gun?”

“We don’t have time for 20 questions. I want to go home. Now.”

“Not gonna happen, Dawn. I take you back, Buffy’d let Caleb finish what he started. The eyepatch thing is sexy, but those dark brown glasses? A little too Stevie Wonder.” A smile. Smiles were good. Smiles meant no bullets. “Come on. Let’s just sit down. We’ll eat donuts, watch a little tv. Wait for the apocalypse to be over.”

“I can’t be here. Buffy needs me. She does.” Xander watched Dawn’s eyes fill up with tears. Those tears had always gone straight to his heart. Only Willow’s affected him more. But he couldn’t break now, couldn’t comfort her. He had to make her understand something even he didn’t really get.

“Yeah, you’re right. Buffy does need you, Dawn. She needs you alive. She needs you to live through this, even if...”

“Don’t say it.” Dawn’s voice was no more than a whisper now. The gun in her hand looked like it weighed about a thousand pounds. Her arm was shaking and the tears were rolling freely down her cheeks. Xander stepped slowly to the cheap plywood table in front of the window and set the box of Krispy Kremes down. Then he started to walk towards Dawn. He tried to think about the best way to approach her, but all he heard in his head was Steve Irwin’s voice telling him to be very careful cause this baby’s beautiful but dangerous.

“She can’t die again. I can’t... I can’t.”

“I know, Dawnie. I know.” He was close now, just a few inches away. He reached out and put a hand on her arm, gently pressing it down until the gun hung limply at her side. Then she was in his arms, sobbing into his t-shirt. “Listen, Buffy will fight better if she knows you’re safe. You’re doing the best thing you can for her right now by being here.”

Dawn didn’t say anything, and Xander didn’t know what else to say. The two exiles stood there and comforted each other. The one eyed man and the key without a lock. What could they do in the big battle but get in the way, right?

• ****

Dawn didn’t say anything, and Xander didn’t know what else to say. The two exiles stood there and comforted each other. The one eyed man and the key without a lock. What could they do in the big battle but get in the way, right?

waaaaaaaaaa

(breaks again)

Sniff.

(It's Krispy Kreme)

Beautiful.

Thanks.

Krispy Kreme. Right. I should do some donut penance or something.

"key without a lock," that's good.

I just thought that would make ita "itaita", which gave me a good giggle.

Feh upon you. But since my name *is* just the suffix, no need to go there. My parents already did the diminutive need. And they swear just by itself "ita" is a Mexican endearment, FWIW.

Eerily, I can hear Steve Irwin. And I never watch his show.

Damn, Kat. You made me sniffle.

Pass the kleenex, please?

Big ol' chunk o' fic a-comin'. Damn, I've missed these nights, when it comes easy and I only have to stop because I have to sleep sometime.

The nuns were kindness itself as they helped their visitors get settled. Spike and Giles stayed on the bus, of course, but everyone else was grateful to get off. Tara clung to Willow's hand but accepted being led to the lodgings. The nuns themselves occupied the second floor of the building; several guest rooms of varying sizes were on the ground floor.

"We have a family staying with us," explained Sister Elizabeth, who was in charge of housing. "They're staying in the first room on the left. We have two more big rooms, you can divide them up as you wish. The wash room is at the end of the hall." She bustled off, leaving them to it.

Willow shrugged. "Guys on one side, girls on the other?" She frowned at Xander. "Except that puts you in with Spike and Giles. Maybe not."

"No, maybe not," Xander agreed. "I can sleep on the bus. Summerses on one side, everybody else on the other? Always assuming that our breath-challenged comrades intend to do anything so mundane as sleep tonight."

Joyce looked at Buffy. "How long are we going to be here?"

"I don't know. Sometime tomorrow, at least. Xander, do you mind not having a real room?"

He tugged on an invisible hat. "De nada, senorita. I'll just curl up in my serape in some corner of the courtyard."

Dawn laughed. "With the chickens?"

"OK, so maybe Clint Eastwood never had to deal with chickens in 'Hang 'Em High' or anything. It's still a perfectly good metaphor. Like I said, there's always the bus. So, Summers women in one room, witches and Anya in the other?"

No one quibbled, though a couple of glances went to Anya. "What?" she said. "I'm going to be wherever Xander is. Keep the vampires away from him."

"I don't think they're going to try anything, Anya," Buffy said.

"Well, no, not trying to bite him or anything. But if they get bored with each other, I don't want them seeing Xander off by himself."

Dawn was the only one who snickered. Various degrees of thoughtfulness and/or dismay went across the other faces.

Xander shook himself hard. "So not an image I ever wanted anywhere near my brain. But--wherever I curl up, Anya, you're more than welcome to curl up with me."

Anya smiled. "And if we want to have sex, we can throw Willow and Tara out of their room."

"Sure," Willow said brightly. "No problem."

Xander turned to Buffy. "We need to unpack the bus, right?"

"Right."

Buffy didn't head for the bus, though, once they were outside. She stood in the courtyard and looked around. "Do you mind coming with me while I look around?"

"Not at all."

They walked past the bus towards the gate. From inside they heard Giles' voice: "I already captured your King's Bishop, you can't use it to put me in check!"

"No, you didn't, that was my Queen's Bishop," Spike countered. "You just can't remember which pieces you're imagining."

"I'm not the one cheating at visualized chess, you are!"

Spike laughed. "And you sound so damned shocked, too. Fledges, they're so gullible."

Xander managed not to laugh until he and Buffy were out of the front gate. "Cheating at chess, that's evil. So, we're scouting the terrain, huh?"

"Pretty much." Buffy looked out over the valley. "This is beautiful. Only the one road, right?"

"I think so. There might be some trails behind the convent."

They walked around the walls. The olive grove sheltered a small graveyard, with weathered wooden crosses.

"Kind of a nice place to end up," Xander mused, looking at the trees and at the mountains beyond. The leaves rustled in the slight breeze, and a bird chirped on the far side of the grove. "Could do a lot worse for yourself."

Something of a professional judge of cemeteries, Buffy looked the area over. "This has been here a long time. And it doesn't look like anything has ever disturbed them."

"That's the way it is in most of the world, Buffy. The dead sleep quiet." A sudden rustle came from behind a tree. "Or not."

Buffy pointed out an ancient olive tree a few yards away. "Over there."

They crept towards the tree. The edge of something moving peeked out from around the trunk. Just as they started to look around, a figure jumped out and growled at them. A small, grey-scaled figure with a stubby tail, two arms and legs, and a faintly dinosaur-ish head. With sharp teeth, that were bared in fearsome snarl as clawed hands waved at them.

Buffy and Xander jumped back, reaching for weapons they hadn't thought they'd need.

The creature froze, then began to hiss quickly, bouncing a little.

The creature froze, then began to hiss quickly, bouncing a little

Connie, if there's a damned Gollum in this, you die bloody.

I'm just saying.