AN: Set in season 5. Dawn finds out that she's the key, but after she cuts herself and shows her wound to her mother, she runs out. Joyce calls Giles and things happen.
In my view, Giles is really out of character here. And I'm sorry for that. I just felt that Dawn needed a male influence and this was sort of a self-challenge.
Enjoy.
Her fingers found the numbers easily, but it was pressing them that was the problems. Shaky hands forced her to dial his number three times.
"Rupert," Joyce says frantically through the telephone. Her voice is bordering the edge of insanity.
"Joyce?" he asks uncertain. "What is it? Is Buffy okay?"
He takes off his glasses and wipes his forehead with the back of his arm. The man had never heard this woman so shaken up before. Her voice was trembling. Anxiety and worry built up in his system. He figured he better pour himself a scotch.
"She's-she's fine. But this is about Dawn!" Taking a steady, deep breath, she continued. "She found out she was the key and.. Oh Lord. Everything turned out horribly."
Giles could tell she was in tears, lost in the night's earlier events. His heart sank when he realized what happened. The worst ideas popped into his brain
"She burnt everything. In her room. There's nothing left," she stated as if in awe, like it wasn't real.
Hearing her words, he dropped the glass he was pouring. Glass went everywhere and so did the scotch. He swore to himself silently as he bent down to pick up his mess.
"And she cut herself. Blood stains on the carpet..." the tortured mother trailed off.
His body tensed and his muscles clenched when what exactly happened washed over him. The shards coated in the liquor pierced his skin causing the wound to burn.
"She ran away, Rupert. We can't find her. And she's bleeding and hurting. And..."
"I'll find her," he interrupted.
"And alone," she finished. Joyce broke down into sobs that tore his heart strings.
Everything went ridged as he turned mechanical. He could feel the Ripper rise up in him and for the first time in a while, he didn't try to repress it. He embraced it
"I'll find her. Everything will be all right, Joyce. I promise."
He hung up the phone and wrapped his hand in a damp towel. After pouring another shot of scotch, he grabbed his coat and head out to look for Dawn.
The old man considered the two young girls his only daughters. But especially to the youngest one. For Buffy was the Slayer and she could handle herself. But Dawn was always a bit on the frail side.
She kept everything inside, only expressing false happiness to keep her older sister and mother at bay. No one but him and her diaries, which she supposedly burnt, knew of the demons that she held. How she believed her parent's split was her fault. How she felt like she was always in Buffy's shadow. As if no one paid any attention to her. As if life just revolved around Buffy.
She'd only share her inner most thoughts when she was tired and emotional, leaving her without any walls. This led the ex-Ripper and the little girl to become friends. The small brunette would often cuddle against him when he babysat during apocalypses. He's help her study for her spelling quizzes and history tests; read her stories until she fell asleep; had to explain to her about the "birds and the bees" through her excessive questioning and his stuttering responses.
He was basically her father and certainly a better one than Hank. This is why he was in "Ripper Mode",
frenziedly searching for his Dawn.
A memory hit him as he was looking for her: She was seven. Braided piggy tails and overalls with fake, plastic high heels and a plastic, silver princess crown. She had just learned how to ride a bike, with training wheels and glittery streamers hanging from the handle bars-the works. With one day of riding under her belt, she decided herself that she didn't need training wheels. Taking them off, she fell the moment she got on the bike.
"What happened Dawnie?", the British man asked when he saw the brunette wobble in with a trembling lip and tear-y eyes. "I did something bad," she stated while running into his arms. "I hurt myself," she cried while nuzzling her head onto his shoulder. "It's okay," he said as he started bandaging it up. "These things happen."
Shaking his head away from the memories, he spotted her.
She was at the park, sitting on the jungle gym. Her hair was veiling her face as she stared at the ground. Her legs were swinging back and froth through the spokes.
He'd never seen her look so fragile.
"Dawn," he breathed a sigh of a relieve as he came towards her. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, then rubbed the tears off of her face lazily with the back of her hand.
He climbed up to the platform she was at and sat down. She rearranged herself so she was beside him, not touching him, but close enough so she could feel him.
"Everyone's worried," he told her while taking his glasses off and cleaning them with the tail of his shirt.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she whispered, placing the wisps of hair that was blowing in the wind, behind her ears.
"We thought it was best if we knew more...before we-uh-told you," he sighed.
"I'm not even real," she said, trying to keep emotion out of her voice. "Not human. Not normal," she murmured while resting her head on his shoulders.
He relaxed under her head and wrapped his arm around her back. Though he was known for being his stuffy, English self, he was not completely emotionless. He knew when a child was in need.
she reached for her arm and slowly pushed up her sleeves. A deep, long cut resided on the middle of her arm. It looked angry-the separated skin turned red and scabbed over. He couldn't stare at it for too long because guilt was racking through his body.
"What happened, Dawn?" he asked while his hands reached to touch it, but at the last second drew back.
"I hurt myself," she breathlessly affirmed as she traced it up and down her arm. "The worst thing? It felt good," she admitted and turned to face him.
Burying her face into his shirt, he could feel her damp tears penetrate to his skin. He embraced the crying girl.
"We're going to get you through this," he vowed and awkwardly patted her back.
Dawn released herself from his grasped and gave him a watery smile.
"No more of this nonsense. Running away. Burning things. Cutting yourself. There are more constructive ways..."
"Okay," she interrupted in a small voice.
"Yeah? And when we get back, you're grounded for a month."
Like I said, excuse the out of character-ness. I wrote this at 3 o'clock in the morning with two Tylenol PMs in me, so excuse the craziness. Um, anything else?Read and review, please. I want to know your thoughts on this.
Thanks you guys.