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Memory - Dawn


She is sitting there, alone, arms wrapped around herself. Thinking. Third time's the charm, she thinks to herself, this time she's not coming back from wherever she is. And she can remember the times before, the second very clear, the first slightly fuzzy and only from what she was told in her false memories. But she can remember Buffy coming home in her dress. The dress Dawn had wanted to touch so badly when she had first seen it hanging in the closet. "We can't tell Buffy about it, it's a secret" her mother had said when they bought the dress. Pretty white, satin and fluttery chiffon. And Buffy came home and she was all wet and her dress was dirty, but she was smiling and the dress was still beautiful. Dawn wouldn't know for years what had happened that night.

And then there was the second time. She had been there for that. Watched as Buffy fell, fell, fell, and Dawn was bleeding and she climbed down alone and Spike was crying and...howling...Tonight, for the third time, he didn't howl, he ran. Dawn hadn't seen him, and oddly, she didn't care. Not now.

She feels, rather than sees, Kit come out through the window. She didn't turn around, just bit out:

"I don't want to talk."

"Good."

Dawn looks over at Kit, her eyes dark and shuttered "I mean it."

"Me too."

Dawn looks away again, her teeth biting down on her tongue, then "Whatever."

"I...feel...I mean, I'm sorry..." (It starts out cold...)

"Kit..." A deep breathe, "Don't, alright?"

Dawn pulls in deep breaths. The air has that wet, cold, post-rain feel. And she smells blood and dirt...evil on the wind, and it's not over by a longshot. She feels Kit shift closer, then "Dawn, please--"

"Look." She snaps, and God she doesn't want to hurt Kit, but, "I don't want to hear your apologies and your platitudes, OK? She's dead, they're dead, it's over, alright? I've done this before, Kit, I know the drill. Just, don't do the all apologies thing."

"I meant, I'm sorry I didn't, that I couldn't..." (The days are strange, stranger than I've known)

Dawn looks over at her. Kit, whose makeup is gone, who looks like a vulnerable girl all curled up on the roof, who is crying with her entire body, but no tears are on her face. And it clicks in Dawn's head. She blames herself. (bring me to the end, then softly back again).

"Kit..."

"I'm really sorry." (Tell me that you need something I can give)

And Dawn looks down at her hands, then out at the view. She can hear car doors slamming down the street and people talking downstairs. Willow's voice, then silence. If it were any other day, maybe if it was still summer, and she was still learning, and Buffy was downstairs after their training was finished for the night, she would be hearing Buffy yelling at her to come down for dinner. Or maybe, if it were even further back, maybe a year, she would hear Tara and Willow laughing at a joke Xander had made. Even further, she would hear her mother making dinner or arguing with Buffy. And suddenly Dawn sees it in her mind. She is on the steps and peeking through the supports of the banister. Her mother is talking to a handsome man with shiny hair and then, suddenly, Buffy is there and they are all three talking ("Have you tried not being the slayer?") But then, Kit speaks and Dawn is brought out of her flashback of what is sadly better times.

"Dawn?"

"What?"

"Do you think it'll come back? There's so much left to fight...do you think it will come back and...win?"

"No." Dawn is very still, the only movement her hair being lifted by the breeze. "But you're right. There's a lot left to fight. But...I don't wanna fight it. I don't want to just, live my life like this forever. I need to get out, I need to end this."

"Dawn you aren't gonna--"

"Kill myself? No. I'm going to run. Wanna come?"

"Yes."

It surprises her, the quick, one-word answer. Dawn stares at Kit, wondering where they'll go, if they go at all. Because somewhere inside she knows she won't run. She can't, because that would mean leaving everyone else to die. And Kit won't do that, and Dawn won't make her, and she won't leave without her. So, for now, Dawn leans over and kisses her on the corner of the mouth, then on the lips as Kit turns and leans into her. Dawn's hands curl around the tattered fabric of Kit's skirt and pulls slowly back from the kiss. (Your face will stay as long as I can breathe)

"Let's go downstairs." Kit says, and she grabs Dawn's hand and holds, tight.

Dawn nods and climbs after her through the window. When their feet hit the floor she stops and looks around. Striped wallpaper, posters, furniture, closet. She lets go of Kit's hand and crosses to the closet, pulling the door open. Her hand reaches out and she runs her fingers over satin, and she pulls the skirt of the dress out so she can see. Bright white, dry-cleaned to it's original perfectness. But she can feel it; dust and dirt and blood ingrained into the threads, and she can still smell Buffy.

"Dawn?"

"I'm coming." She whispers, and let's the dress drop from her fingers before closing to door.

As she leaves her sister's old room with Kit, she remembers watching from a crack in the door as her sister packed to run away to Los Angeles.

Buffy had run. Dawn would stay. (Bring me to the end, then softly back again. Make the night as safe as you can. Tell me that you need something I can give.)