Title- Purple
By: Leigh
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the BtVS characters, I'm just going to play with them for a little bit.
A/N: This is an A/U fic, in the end of the fifth season during "The Gift" what if Buffy had been too slow to get up to the top of that tower and Dawn had jumped to save the world? Feedback welcome, enjoy.

~BtVS~

Her hand hasn't moved since I put mine over it. I guess it won't really. Ever, ever again. She's dead. Her flesh feels cool to my touch, cooler than Angel's ever felt. My thumb makes tiny circles over the back of her hand.

Really, I'm surprised they were able to make it an open casket. Surprised in a good and bad way. Because the last time I saw her she was an unrecognizable mass of flesh, piled up on top of herself, her limbs poking out in ways that should never have been to begin with. I bite my bottom lip. Why wasn't I faster?

My feet had barely covered the last step on the stupid, falling down tower. I was just in time to watch her jump. To kill herself. I know she did it to save the world. But that's my job, not hers. Hers was to go to school, to get crushes on guys and whine about how she never gets to do anything, not even save the world. It should have been me. Blinking back tears, I set my mouth in a grim line of determination.

She didn't even live six months. But it still feels like she was a part of me. I still remember every moment of every day with her, every time I told her to go away and every time she'd run crying to Mom. And now even Mom isn't around anymore. It's just me. Like a ship out on the water, all by myself. Alone.

I drop her hand and lean down to place a kiss on her cool forehead, whispering, "I'm sorry Dawnie, I'm so sorry." A tear seeps out and falls onto her face, but I don't brush it away. She should be buried with my tears. She is made from me after all.

I stumble back over to my chair and fall into it. Without thinking, both hands reach out, one on each side of me, and I grasp Willow and Xander hard. The original Scooby gang. Willow's got Tara, and Xander has Anya, then there's me. Alone.

Father James, some friend of Giles' he always got to bless the holy water, starts speaking and I look back to see all of my little sister's friends. The church is full. We've never attended mass here, none the less anything else, but the church is still packed. Full of our friends, Dad and his latest secretary, teachers, but mostly… mostly kids I don't think even knew Dawn. Kids from her school who never got the chance to know her.

"It's always unfair to see one so young taken from us, one with so much potential." He keeps going but I ignore him. So much potential. She could have had a normal life, one without demons and hell gods, without vampires and death. She could have grown up, gone to school and married, had two point five kids and lived to see them grow up and have kids of their own. She had so much more of a chance at a normal life than I ever did, but now she doesn't. It's all gone in the blink of an eye. A sob wretches out of me and I do my best to swallow it, ignoring the looks others are shooting my way. They say they care, they say they're sad she's gone, but most of these kids never even knew her.

It makes everything feel… fake.

Kind of like, they shouldn't be here to begin with. Fake mourning will do nothing but remind me that my sister died for all of them and they don't even care. She died saving all of us and the only ones who realize the implications are sitting next to me. The priest wraps things up and asks if any of us would like to say anything. I want to, god how I want to. I want to tell them all that she's dead because of me, she's dead because she saved them all, that she never deserved to live so short a life. I want to yell at them all to go away and leave me with my grief, leave me to mourn her the way she deserves to be mourned.

But I don't. I bite back my tears and wish that someone would say something about her. On my right, I feel Willow release my hand and stand up. She walks on shaky looking legs up to the podium, next to this year's school picture of Dawnie. She stands before it for a moment, tracing the outline of her face, before finally turning toward everyone.

She clears her throat and begins speaking. I can see the tears in her eyes just waiting to spill over at any moment. "Dawnie wasn't just someone with the potential to lead an amazing life, she was someone who did. She looked bravely into the face of danger, and faced her fears every day." I keep reminding myself that no one here knows but us. Everyone thinks she committed suicide. Just another teen in a long string of teens who couldn't deal with living. Everyone is wrong. But she has to make it sound like a suicide speech. "Even though she is no longer with us, she will never be forgotten, we will never stop loving her, and thanking her for making our lives a brighter place even if for just a short time." Finally, she turns to face the casket, and I can hear the hitch in her voice falter. She must be crying. "You will be missed."

Eventually, students start filing out of the church. Then teachers. And finally Dad and his latest flavor of the month. I stand up, holding tight to Willow and Xander both as I head out of the church and towards the graveyard. I don't know who's in charge of moving her casket. I didn't make any of the arrangements for this entire thing, Giles did everything. I walk over to a hole in the ground. It's deep, probably six feet, and encased in concrete. All it's missing is her. I stare down at my feet. The ground is covered in faux grass, the kind that's used to make the earth look nicer, to, I guess, pad our feelings from ourselves. The pain of death may be too much coupled with anything being out of place. At least that's what I think they're reasoning is. But it's all too sterile.

It's too cut and clean, everything is just so in its place. Nothing is the way it should be. My sister is dead. The world should feel my pain, feel the echoing scream of emptiness radiating out of my chest. I don't want things to be orderly. She's the only part of my family-my blood family-that I had left. Well, aside from Dad, but he doesn't count. You have to be around occasionally to be considered family.

I fall to my knees in front of her soon to be grave, my hands ripping at the too cheery fake grass. I need dirt. Dirt and blood and life. She should be alive, dammit!

Tears splash on the backs of my hands, mixing with the dry earth, turning to tiny streaks of mud. Why? Why wasn't I faster? I drop my head into my hands, feeling the tiny pile of destroyed earth touch against the end of my nose as I start keening. Everything breaks at once, all of the guilt and worry I've been carrying around about Mom, all the pressure of trying to keep Dawnie from Glory, all of it for nothing. A sob tries to escape me again, only this time I let it. I keep crying and crying, letting it all go into the ground, back with her. Maybe it can protect her where I failed. Probably not, but it's all I've got. Grief. Emptiness. I feel Willow's arms wrap around me.

For a second I pull away. A part of me taking over that I didn't even know still existed. The first slayer. Nothing but instinct. Hugs not allowed. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars, do not ever see your sister again. But then I fall back into the embrace. She's on her knees too, getting her pants all dirty in my muddy mess of a pile. She doesn't care. I can feel her hand on my head, smoothing my hair down, trying to calm me. And I just keep crying, never stopping the endless flow of sadness oozing from my body.

She doesn't try to tell me it'll be okay. She doesn't reassure me that she's here for me. All she does is make tiny little shushing noises in my ear and hold me while I rock. I look up, and through a blur of tears, see Xander and Giles carrying the front end of the mahogany box we chose to put her in forever. Like a little doll. Never to be played with again. I can't tell who the men are helping them carry her, but it doesn't matter, none of it matters. Willow pulls me to my feet.

They slide the casket into place, using the ugly pulleys to hold her up for one last moment. My hand scoops up a handful from the pile I've made and I hold it over her box. But instead of dropping it I bring my hand down to the surface, placing the handful of green flakes and dirt over where her heart would be. My baby sister. I failed my mom and her. That was my job, protect Dawn. And I failed.

My hand shakes as I pull it back. I use it to wipe away the tears again. I'm sure my face is covered in dirt but I don't care. I watch Will pick up a small stone and place it on the casket. It takes a minute before I get why, but as soon as it clicks, I find one on the ground to place next to hers. Forever missed. Xander puts one single flower down on the casket. I'm not sure what kind it is, other than the kind that they use at funerals, but he adds a small stone alongside mine and Will's. Giles does the same and we all step back, allowing the funeral to be over, allowing her to be lowered into the ground.

None of us move, no one leaves the grave site until the last shovel of earth has been thrown. We all just stand here, watching, I don't know about everyone else, but a surreal sense of … of none of this being real washes over me as I watch.

As the last bit of ground settles, Willow turns me around, heading towards home. We walk in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. Nothing will ever be the same again, I won't ever have to fight over the bathroom with her, I won't ever hug her, or kiss her, or tell her that she's loved again. Even though I thought I had cried out everything I had to cry back at her grave, as we walk up the walkway to the front door of the house, tears crash over again.

Giles opens the door and lets Will steer me towards the sofa. I fall onto it, collapsing into a ball, curling into a fetal position and just letting my tears go. I feel her move me some, just a little, enough to squeeze in behind me and wrap her arms around me. Her tears are cold on my neck, but if nothing else, they're genuine. I just stay there and let her hold me. I need the physical contact now more than I can voice, but I don't have to. She knows, because she feels it too. After what feels like forever, the tears stop. But I don't move. I can still feel her crying, she's not finished yet. I drift off into unconsciousness.

~BtVS~

Drifting awake but keeping my eyes shut, I try to stretch, only to be stopped by Tara laying beside me. I drop back down in my spot, letting my arm fall back over her waist, and lean my face in to nuzzle her neck. Letting my hand trail down her side, I barely touch her, feeling the goose-bumps that follow my finger tips. I feel the heat from the sun through the window, warming the room. A small smile plays on my lips; I lean close to her ear whispering, "Babe, it's time to get up." I breathe in the scent of her hair. And open one eye. To find Buffy.

My other eye shoots open and I pull my arm back like I've been burned, backing further into the couch cushions, not that it's very possible but its nearly possible and oh Goddess, I was just about to fondle Buffy. I can feel the flush work its way into my cheeks. The quick move I made to pull myself out from under her jostles her awake and she turns to look at me. Her eyes look puffy and blood shot. Poor Buffy. I can feel my expression turn from shock to concern in an instant at what I see as I stare at her, the pink tint leaving just as quickly. Not only are her eyes puffy and bloodshot, but they look vacant too. More abandoned than I've ever seen anyone's before.

I slide back down the couch, reclaiming the spot I just vacated. "Sorry I woke you, I didn't... I uh.. uhm.. just sorry." I mumble out as she moves from lying next to me to sitting upright a foot away.

Her tone is completely flat, "It's fine."

The way we were just laying flashes into my mind. Running my fingers up her side. Like an evil, evil tease, the thoughts won't go away. I keep seeing her, only I know that under the thin fabric my fingers trailed over, her skin is tan and I imagine what goose-bumps must look like on her. I shake my head. I just got Tara back. After so long fighting to keep her, fighting to keep us an us…who do I fantasize about? Buffy. Again. I thought I was over this…?

The silence between us stretches on for eons. I smooth my hair back behind my ears, finally banishing all thoughts of the naughty variety and stand suddenly. "Are you hungry?" I need something to do, something with my hands so that I don't just sit here all day stewing in guilt about a quick moment of confusion. I mean, I didn't even realize it was Buffy. Did I? I want to deny it, but I can't. I knew the second my finger trailed over her hip bone that it wasn't Tara. I kept moving anyway.

She shakes her head slightly and I roll my eyes. "C'mon Buff, I know how much you eat. I don't think I've ever been around you when youweren't starving."

Biting her bottom lip, she stares down at the ground. Is she really that bad off? For Buffy not to want food…she's worrying me. I grab onto her wrist, hauling her off the sofa anyway.

"Well, even if you're not hungry, I am. C'mon you can help me cook breakfast." Normally, I'd never dream of suggesting she try to cook anything. I mean, I've seen her burn toast before, even while she sat watching it brown more and more each minute. But as much as I don't need to sit here and stew in my thoughts, Buffy needs to even less.

She lets me drag her into the kitchen and lean her against the island. Going to the pantry, I pull out pancake mix and syrup, then stop at the fridge for some milk before dropping everything onto the island behind her. "How about you do the mixin' and I'll do the flippin'?" I try to keep my tone light. Fluffy. Like pancakes should be.

She doesn't respond to my question so I turn her around to face the tiny counter. Shuffling through the drawers, I pull out a measuring cup and a whisk before setting them down in front of her. As soon as the utensils make a tiny metallic clink noise, she starts moving, opening the mix and measuring out enough. She even turns from the island on her own and grabs a big bowl to mix everything in.

I don't let my relief show through as I grab the biggest pan and drop a little butter in it. I can hear her pouring milk, then putting it up behind me. And the crisp noise of the whisk hitting on the side of the bowl reaches my ear. I let out a breath. She's so far past the point of 'okay' that I don't know if she would've moved at all if I hadn't pulled her from the couch.

I need to go home and shower, but leaving her alone right now so isn't an option. What if she just stops again? Just stops everything in a split second, stops living, stops being Buffy, stops slaying and eating, stops thinking. Just becomes catatonic? I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting back the tears. I don't know if I can pull her out of that again. I don't know that I have it in me.

But if I don't, who will? Giles? He couldn't even if he wanted to. There's so much trust he lost and never regained after the cruciamentum that I instantly rule out asking him. Xander is the next obvious choice, but I'm not looking forward to another "This is my Xander," speech from Anya. I can't think of any other way to explain to her that none of us are going to 'steal' him away. So that leaves… me. Me and Tara. Together we could fix it. I think.

A soft thunk next to me startles me out of my thoughts. I look down to see the pancake batter mixed and waiting to be ladled out onto the warm pan. I set to work cooking, biting back the question of if she wants funny or regular shaped. I don't think she'll care enough to even choose. I can feel her behind me, hovering. "Why don't you go and change out of those clothes?" I finally ask. I don't know what to do, how to get her motivated to move. She's always been the determined one, the one with a plan, and now she's not and it's all just falling onto me, and here I am hoping for the best.

I hear a small "Okay," from behind me and feel her leave the kitchen. I let out a breath of air. I need Tara, I can't do this by myself. She left with Xander and Giles yesterday while I stayed with Buffy, but where did she say she was going? I scrunch my nose trying to remember. The dorms. She said she was going to pack at our dorm. Should I interrupt? She has a flight to her aunt's to catch by two tomorrow. She called her mom's sister as soon as she was coherent. Her aunt Amilia was so excited to hear from her since the last time she'd heard from anyone was when Tara first got mind sucked that she asked her to come out to visit.

This summer is gonna be our first time that we've really slept apart since moving in together. And I'm really not looking forward to it.

She's leaving too soon to finish up the packing anyway. I want to get my time in with her while I still can, so I grab the phone and dial the dorm. It rings seven, eight, nine, ten, times before I finally drop the receiver. She's probably hauling stuff down to the car. All of her stuff, besides the clothes she's taking with her, is going to my parent's house. Not that they know. Or will notice. They'll be gone all summer teaching courses in Rome, so we should have the house to ourselves. I smile at the thought. I love school, but I love the idea of getting to sleep in and spend time with her nearly as much, if not more than the thought of new classes and books.

Buffy shuffles back into the kitchen and grabs three of the pancakes. I resist the urge to comment on her lack of hunger and her taking my pancakes and watch her smother them in syrup. She says, "Thank you," softly and walks into the dining room after grabbing a fork. I finish up the cooking and join her, bringing the extra pancakes out on a plate because I'm pretty sure she'll devour them, too. But she hasn't even taken a bite in the ten minutes since she came to sit out here by herself.

Biting back a sigh, I tear into my food. Around a mouthful I say, "You've gotta eat Buff." I can see her shoulders slump in defeat and she cuts a small bite out of the stack of slimy mess sitting in front of her. A large frown forms on her face. She puts it in her mouth, chewing slowly. Then sets her fork back down. I roll my eyes. "Dammit Buffy, you can't just not eat. It won't kill you."

I watch her expression change from the frown. For a second I think she's going to just cave in but instead I see anger form there. Anger towards me. She looks bitter when she finally spits out, "Fine." And promptly devours everything on her plate. I sit staring in amazement. She just stuffed all three pancakes into her mouth at once and chewed for maybe two minutes before swallowing the whole thing. This time I let the sigh out. The noise draws her attention and I see moisture gathering in her eyes before she looks away.

At least she has the good graces to act ashamed of her anger and drops her eyes to the floor. I ignore the mini tantrum and ask, "So what's the plan for the day?"

She shrugs with disinterest, and when she answers her tone is just as flat as it was earlier, "Giles said something about training." She pulls her eyes up to look at me and I see the unshed tears still there. When she speaks again her voice has lost its flat edge. Instead, she sounds throaty and raw, "I thought maybe I'd uhm…" her voice falters and she clears her throat before continuing, "Maybe start putting some of Dawnie's stuff up in the attic." She pauses again before adding, "With Moms?"

I nod agreement but I really don't know if she's in the right place mentally to try to handle that right now. I offer, "If it gets too hard, I can," I pause, "take over, but only if you need it, I don't want to overstep."

She looks me dead in the eye, saying, "I don't think you even can overstep Will. You and Xander and Giles are all I have left. You guys are …" She trails off. I let it hang there. Waiting for her to finish it. But she doesn't.

Finally, I do, "Family?" I ask, my voice sounding more hopeful than it should. I know we're family, but she nods anyway, confirming what she can't say out loud. I stand up; grabbing my plate and hers and taking them to the kitchen, sitting them in the sink before walking back out to her. She's still sitting in the same spot so I pull her up and into as big a bear hug as I can make. "I love you Buffy." I whisper into her ear.

I can feel her tears cool and wet on my shoulder and I hear a muffled, choked out reply of, "I love you too, Will."

~BtVS~

Looking out the window, I see a plane get lower and lower, dropping its wheels and finally screeching to a slow down point. I can see my face reflected in the glass. I look pale. Not pale that's sheik either, the dead washed out pale of someone who should be outside but never sees the light of day. My face is the palest part of me, my cheeks don't even have any rosiness in them. I press my hand to the cool glass. I can hear them behind me, saying goodbye.

I don't look back. It's a private moment and really none of my business. I wouldn't even be here if Will hadn't dragged me along with her in her parents car. Yesterday was a complete bust. Training with Giles went…well, training like. Only with more of the falling on my ass moments than I usually have. If he noticed he didn't say anything. But come to think of it, I'm sure it was just his British reserve keeping his mouth sewn shut.

A hand places itself on my shoulder and I look up to see Tara standing behind me, reflecting back next to my ghostly self. I turn and give her a quick hug. "Have a safe flight." She smiles softly at me.

"I'll try You take care of yourself, and Wills, okay?" She asks softly.

I nod, "Come back soon?" I don't have the heart to tell her that I'll try. I can't promise to take care of anyone, not even myself right now. I wish I could tell her that I love her. I love her like any member of my family, but we've never said the words. And to say them now? It seems too desperate.

I just have this feeling that it won't be much longer.

I watch her grab her bag and walk towards the gate. Will stays with me, holding my hand and anchoring me in the present. Yesterday was a disaster.

I tried to start on Dawnies room, to start boxing things up, but when I went in, nothing was the same as it had been before. All her stuff was gone. All of it. Every picture, diary, scrap of clothing, even awards, all of it was just gone. And then it hit me.

This must be what her room looked like before the monks made her. Before they created this person out of nowhere to be my baby sister and stuck all these memories in my head. This is what the house would be like if only me and Mom ever lived here. I lost it.

I don't know how long it took for her to find me, but after a while I heard Will calling my name but I didn't reply. I stayed where I was, hiding in some small corner, looking inside the chest that was part of Dawns room but is still here. She used to keep her diaries here, all of them. But now the chest is filled with old pictures of me and Mom, some art gallery display brochures, MOO handouts and other remnants of a life without Dawn.

I stared at that box forever, willing it to bring her diaries back, to give me one last chance to get to know my sister. If I could only find one thing she had written on, or some picture, anything to remind me she was real. I could hold her and touch her, I could breathe in her scent when I hugged her, I could chase her around the house pretending to be a vampire. And she was the one who believed me, the only one who didn't think I was crazy to believe in vampires. I need something to know that she really existed, that I didn't just bury an empty casket.

But there was nothing there.

After she found me crying, she held me for a while, waiting for me to calm down enough to be able tell her exactly what had upset me so much. But I think she already knew. I saw her eyes widen almost comically when she first came into the room, taking in everything that was where it shouldn't be and nothing being where it should be. It took her at least ten minutes to get me to stop blubbering like an idiot. "It's like she never even existed," I finally said.

She nodded and asked about photo albums. I went in search of them, but it was another blank. No photos of her anywhere, whereas before, at least every other one was full of shots of her as a baby…me holding her and feeding her, watching her grow up throughout the years.

Maybe those kids had the right idea? Maybe everything about it all was fake? Maybe I should just forget that I ever had a little sister. She wasn't real anyway…? But I can't. I feel the ache in my chest still when I think about her, especially when I wonder what kind of hell dimension she's in right now. When she jumped into the vortex, did they take her soul as payment? The must have. They took it and now she's dead and she can't even be a memory because the stupid monks have even taken that away from me.

"C'mon Buff, let's go home." Will tugs on my hand, pulling me away from the window. Bye bye Tara, I'll miss you. Please take care of Will when I'm gone. You have to. You're everything to her.

She loads me into the car and we pull out of LAX, turning the car towards Sunnydale. How am I supposed to mourn her if I don't have any proof she ever even existed? Wil'ls hand is still holding mine, almost like she knows that if I could I'd jump out the window onto the highway like some dumb dog. We're nearly out of the city when I ask, "Do we… I mean, could we, do we have to go back to Sunnydale right away? Could we maybe stay and sit on the beach here for a minute? I'd like to…" I trail off.

She knows what I mean anyway and we pull over and get off, heading towards the beach. It's a warm day out. I just need something to ground me. We're real. Me, Willow, Tara, Dawn, Xander, Giles, we're all real. Vampires really exist. I'm not just crazy. I never just made up a sister. She existed, she loved, she annoyed.

We pull up to an impossibly crowded parking lot and she lets go of my hand. I get out, crunching my way down towards the sand. I just start walking. Away from the parking lot, away from people, away from even the seagulls. I walk for twenty minutes, never stopping to see if Willow follows. I already know she is, I can hear the soft thump of her feet as she scoops sand up into her sandals. Finally I find a spot where no one is around and plop down into the sand. Taking off my shoes and socks, I bury my toes in the warm surf. Will sits next to me, never saying a word just taking my hand back in hers. I pull my knees up to my chest, crossing my arms over them and leaning my head to the side, looking at her. "Why did they make her un-exist?" I ask finally.

She chews on her bottom lip, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "I'm not sure. Maybe because the spell ended?"

I think about this for a minute. "But if it was all about the spell ending, then why can I still remember her? Why does it still hurt? Why didn't the spell make the hurt be non-existent to begin with?"

She shrugs before simply saying, "I don't know Buff. Magic works in strange ways."

I nod and turn to stare out at the ocean. "Do you think she's in hell?"

A startled expression crosses her face, "What? No Buffy how could you think that? She didn't commit suicide she-"

I cut her off. "She died jumping through a portal to hell. Something had to be taken to shut it. What if it was her soul?"

She looks at the ocean, thinking before answering me. "This is gonna sound really strange but I don't know if she had a soul. I don't think the monks, uhm, gave her one."

Then if they didn't take her soul, what did they take? Her life? Her essence? Her aura? What does a portal need to shut? Someone willing to sacrifice themselves or pure intentions?

"Is there any way to see if she did? To make sure that if she did, she's not in hell?" The thought of her in hell being tortured second after second makes me nauseas and dizzy and I'm sure that if Will made me eat before we left home I'd already be puking.

Her eyebrows scrunch up as she thinks about my question. I went through this with Angel, knowing he was being tortured day in and day out. But then…things were different then. He's a vampire, she was human. But he got pulled back the same way she did. The blood is what opens it, the blood is what closes it. It's always about blood. Eventually Will says, "I'm not sure. I can look in some of Giles' books, maybe some kind of…location spell? Or something?" She bites her lip, hesitant to commit to something she's not sure will work. I get it.

I nod and dig my feet deeper into the earth. The sand surrounds them both, coming up to cover my ankles as I push further in. The weight of the sand on my feet feels nice, grounding. I'm here. At the beach with my Will and it's just us. Sitting and talking. Like the good ole days, only now it's not the same. Or maybe it's actually the same as it was before Dawn. But it doesn't feel like we've gone back to the way we were, it just feels like she's still missing. I never would've taken her with us to the beach, never would've had girl talk time with her, all because she was my sister. So I never got to know who she was and now it feels like I'm the one who's missing out on something, because at least Will and Xander talked to her. At least they didn't view her as a constant pain in the ass. Like me.

And that's really what it boils down to, isn't it? I never took the time to get to know my only sister. I was always too busy running off to slay whatever demon, and to cheerleading practice before that. And I lost sight of her. I'm mourning someone I never even took the time to get to know.

I squeeze my eyes shut as hard as they'll go, refusing to let the tears spill over again. I'm so tired of crying constantly. My eyes hurt, and I'm pretty sure I look like a cartoon raccoon. My eyes are bruised up from me wiping tears away over and over again. I wish I could be like the ocean. Constant. Far, far away from here and never having to love anything or anyone.

That feeling creeps into my tummy again. Not much longer left. The sun starts setting, cooling our spots and making the sand around my feet go from warm to cold. Willow grabs my hand and pulls me up. "Let's go, its nearly dark." We walk back to the car and I buckle myself back into my spot.

She turns the car towards home and we're off again. One last time. And it hits me. Willow and Xander knew her. "What was her favorite color?"

She looks at me, "Who's? Dawn's?" I nod and she answers, "Purple."

Purple. Maybe I can get to know her after all. Maybe.