I was in a very depressed mood last night and wrote this at around 3 in the morning. I finished editing it today, so excuse the cliche-ness of it all. I bet it's getting tiredsome with the whole depressed dawn bit. I'll move on some day. Anyway, on the the fic.
This is based on after season 6. Buffy and Spike never did it. And it's placed five years in the future, so Dawn's about 21 or so. It'll all make sense once you read it.
Chapter 1
"That will be thirty-six fifty," she said to the man in front of her.
His hand reached into his pants pocket and he pulls out some bills. Two twenties grace his hands and he shoves them to her.
"It's your tip, doll," he says hurriedly in a dark voice.
Grabbing the shot glasses in his hands, he moves back to the dance floor. Another man stops in front of her place at the bar and slaps his hand on the table.
"House special, please," the man says distractedly.
The girl gives him a beer and takes the money that's already in his hand. When doing so, their fingers touched and it caused him to look at her.
"Why, hello cutie."
She gave him a plastic smile and returned him the change. He denied the exchange.
"Keep it," he uttered with a leer on his face.
Checking her up and down, he nodded his head.
"But this is nearly twenty five dollars," she protested.
"Well, when you put it that way-I know. What if we trade some information? You tell me your name, sexy and then I'll let you keep the money."
She argued with herself internally. But decided that she needed the money. Hell, that's why she had the job in the first place for. Money.
"Dawn. My name is Dawn."
He gave her a suggestive smirk and licked his dry, thin lips. Unscrewing the top of the beer off, he took a sip.
"Nice to meet you Dawn. My name is Patrick. Patrick Gurney."
He slipped her hand into his and placed his overly dry lips to her flesh. A shiver ran down her spine.
"The pleasure is all mine," he murmured against her skin.
She turned up a corner of her lips, but soon brought her hand back to her own safe side. Ignoring his presence, she took a dirty rag and mopped up the rings of water that the drinks have left.
Patrick sat down across from Dawn and slowly sipped his beer. He chatted freely with the young girl that was in front of him. He was slightly infatuated with her. She seems too innocent to be a bartender in the big city of New York which was full of corruption and greed. And it didn't help that she was beautiful. Slightly too skinny. Lean, long legs. Graceful arms. Stringy, brunette hair. Sad smiles that went with her sad baby blue eyes that looked like they've seen too much. He's been watching her for a while now. Silently in the background.
It was time for his next move.
"So, what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"
Pausing to think, she could not seem to find an answer to his question. Or at least one she could tell him. Because what she was now was because of what she was then. And what she was then was a slayer's sister. A flesh made shell filled with green energy. Fake memories and bleeding into the sky. A dead sister who came back. A mom who never did. People leaving and never coming back. A pair of cold hands that violated unknown places against her cries and protests. Suicide letters that never went through. A wooden stake that never turned things into dust. Dark dreams and wet eyes. Always feeling dirty. Never able to wash away the filth. The dirt. Or the feeling of someone else's fingers over her skin. Packed bags and a handful of money. And never looking back. An empty bus heading to San Francisco.
"Personal demons," she concluded, finding it the best answer she could truly give.
He nodded his head accepting it and finished off his drink.
"Want another one?" she questioned.
"No."
He looked at his watch and saw it was nearly two. That means he would have around four hours before dawn. It should be enough.
"When you get off work, would you like to come over to my place?" he slyly asked.
Dawn stopped the drying of a shot glass and looked at him. He was average build; nothing too special. Black hair, brown eyes, a nice smile. Probably a quick lay.
"Alright. Give me five minutes."
Wiping down the counters and pocketing her tips, she told her manager that she was heading home. With her jacket and purse in hand she met up with Patrick.
"Ready?"
She nodded her head and followed him outside.
"Where's the car?" she wondered aloud.
Her head twisted around to look for some sort of transportation, but there were no cars around. Then she noticed the ominous appearance on his face.
"Sorry," he whispered before his hands grabbed a bat that was on the side of the building.
She let out a scream, but it was too late. His arms were already in the position to strike. She clawed at his body but it was no use. He brought the bat down to her head, knocking her unconscious.
Everything became dark as her body slipped to the ground.