Another day another dollar. I hate that saying. Another day another fuck up is more like it. That's what I always do right? Screw everyone's life up with my annoying presence. They don't love me, I know that, I'm the thing that was thrown on their doorstep. I'm the thing who stole the life of someone who never existed, who didn't need to exist.

I like to numb the pain. Make it disappear, I'm not real, I don't deserve the perfect little life. I deserve this, all of this. The pain, the tears, the blood. I deserve to be hated for everything I've never done.

The perfects are out defending a world that has no meaning while I sit here in my pretty room. I don't like it. It reminds me of Buffy. Perfect looking but it's seen things you wouldn't believe, it's so perfect on the outside but on the inside it's an ungrateful selfish-okay I wasn't talking about the room anymore. My attention remained solely on Buffy and her perfection.

I walked over to my mirror and slowly undressed, scrutinizing every flaw I saw until I was just a piece of dirt. Never clean, always dirty, small and insignificant.

I was fat I realized. I squeezed the little bit of skin I had on my stomach, pulled, and glared at it. Disgusting.

I turned my arms outward and studied the scars marring once porcelain like skin. Only it wasn't porcelain because porcelain was for pretty things. Pretty people.

I reached up and grabbed the rats nest that I called hair. Well what other people call hair because I call it a nest, not hair.

I bent down, reached into my dresser drawer, and pulled out a pair of new black stockings. I smoothed them over my arms before taking scissors and cutting excess length off.

I reached down again and pulled out a pair of fishnet stockings, a semi-short skirt, and a black and white corset. I pulled these garments on, heard the door downstairs open, and felt the vibrations of someone pounding up the stairs. I knew what was going to happen.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Dawn? What are you doing? Come out." Xander's footsteps once again pounded down the stairs. I rolled my eyes and gave my door the finger. Not like it would do any good though.

Checking my clothes I grabbed my bag full of goodies and wrenched open my door before realizing I had no shoes on. I decided on shiny black boots. I like shiny, it reminds me of a Key.

I smirked internally as I saw Buffy's disgusted look at my outfit.

"And just where do you think you're going? We need to talk." I flicked my eyes over her beautiful outfit, still perfect even after a night of slaying and possibly fucking Spike.

"Out." Why talk to someone who doesn't want you to talk to them?

"Fine. I don't care anyways. I just wanted you to know there's another potential apocolypse." Goodie me! I have another chance to die.

"That's nice. Later." I wrenched open the front door and sprinted down the stairs as I heard Buffy's voice follow me.

"Try opening for once, not tearing!"

Bite me.

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A/N Has anyone noticed how I have Dawn mocking Buffy but still thinking over her as perfect. As Marilyn Manson would say...The Beautiful People. Some people are jealous of them, but they mock them. Dawn is mocking Buffy in her perfection and hating her own imperfection, there's no middle. I don't think that really made any sense though...?