Waiting For Dawn
By Jessamyn

There's something about her, the innocence in her eyes he supposed, that drew him to her. He wants to own her, protect her, and bathe in the warmth of her. His own, private, Dawn. But two out of three isn't bad.

She colors his world in pastels and light, everything from button down shirts to boxers, and it's only through his very firm refusal that he doesn't end up looking like he'd rummaged through Lorne's closet these days.

The unending night that is his life stretches out in his memory. Sometimes he doesn't think he deserves even her friendship. With all the things he's seen and done he doesn't think that he should get any closer to her for fear that he might taint her in some way.

She's not perfect, though. He knows this. She laughs too loudly and at odd, inappropriate times. The way she eats makes bloodsucking look refined. And she always, always hogs the covers. He doesn't mind.

She's sleeping at his side tonight. The dreams are back again. He seems to be the only one able to ward them off. Perhaps some ghost lingers near him still, helping to soothe the nightmares away. Maybe it's that he embodies the link between the dead and the living. One step closer without actually jumping herself. Either way he's glad she's here.

The room lightens by degrees, bringing out the pale pink of her skin, the blue of her veins beneath, and he allows himself to nuzzle her neck lightly, drinking in her scent. The old urge rises as it always does but he pushes it back. Though he could have her that way, it wouldn't really be her. Not the real Dawn.

She's not ready. He knows this. Though she might welcome him as an escape from her pain, she just wasn't. It had nothing to do with the laws consent. He's lived long enough, and in enough places, to see that change several times. It didn't even have anything to do with the way the world would perceive them. The young woman and her cradle robbing, creature of the night boyfriend. It hadn't stopped him when Buffy-

No, he's promised himself he wouldn't compare. It wouldn't be fair to either Dawn or the memory of Buffy, and besides, they weren't very similar at all really. Even that, even Buffy, though wasn't what held him back. It was just the simple fact that he was patient enough to wait for the right moment. That one precious moment when he'd see a light in her eyes and he'd know. Know that she saw him as he was and yet still loved him. Still wanted him.

As the twilight of sunrise brightens to true morning, he waits. Forces air into and out of his lungs rhythmically because she'd once said that it creeped her out, his not breathing. Wraps his electric blank warmed arm around her and waits. It wouldn't be long now. He can feel the changes in her already. The quickening of her heart. He smiles in anticipation, waiting for her, waiting for Dawn.