Author's Note: I noticed the alarming lack of Sweet-Fics so I wrote this up to get it out of my system, hope you like.
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, nor do I own any of its affiliates.
She had kept the amulet, perhaps out of habit but likely not. The article itself was small and almost tacky with an oval, murky stone that mimicked the one on its owners forehead. Dawn had taken great care with its removal from her jewelry box, and beforehand shut the door to her quiet room.
No locking - that would be too suspicious.
The other knickknacks, trinkets, and souvenirs her hands, grown swift with practice, had collected from various stores paled in comparison to the necklace she held before her. It glinted in the moonlight from a nearby window with a less than impressive luster.
Dawn tapped her fingers on a cabinet, switching between sitting and standing at irregular intervals. Her eyes sought the door once again, almost hoping that her sister would come to stop her from whatever it was she planned on doing because she knew in the back of her head that trying to stop herself would be futile. Self-control vanished around the time Buffy had died for a second time.
Finally settling down, but still a tad antsy, the younger of the Summers sisters contemplated why, after a week, she was still thinking of "the Lord of the Dance," as Tara had named him.
He was outlandish, with his gaudy zoot suits and laugh; that breathy, mocking laugh. Somebody had to explain to him that the thirties were long over, Dawn thought.
Her inner monologue was perturbed by what sounded like loud whispers emanating from a far-off room, growing louder but strangely less distinct. Not female tones like those of Willow, Anya or Buffy, but definitely feminine.
Suddenly the noises fell sharply into place; soulful voices like that of a church choir harmonized 'oohs' and 'ahs' to the jazzy snapping of cymbals. Dawn felt that she should be at least surprised, but found herself more mesmerized than anything before hearing that all-too-familiar dry chuckle.
Ha-hah...
It's good to see you back,
Guess you're not so tame...
She recognized the tempo from her first meeting with the demon; hate to give it to the guy, but he made pretty good first impressions.
Buffy's not the only one,
With a little, fla-a-ame...
The click-clacking of tap shoes served as a metronome while Dawn's serenader continued.
Why you returned is something,
Only I know,
But stay with me a while,
I guarantee,
A good show...
(hun) the back-up singers crooned.
So what'dya' say?
Let's have a bit of...
Fun.
Ha-hah...
With startling mercilessness, Dawn bent the metal between her thumb and forefinger, popped the 'gem' out, and crushed it with under the heel of an innocent shoe she picked up from the side of her bed.
The residue blew away on a motionless breeze, leaving nothing behind but a 'V' shaped frame and irreparable clasp.
"Buffy!" Dawn yelled. "Can we have pizza t'night!"
Reviews are always welcome, not mandatory, but I love 'em. Thanks for reading.