Title: Between Rest and Sleep - Part 1
Disclaimer: Dawn and the characters surrounding Buffy the Vampire Slayer do not belong to me. They belong to the mind of Joss Whedon. The vampire Edric is my character, though, as is many of the supporting characters of this story. If there is any confusion about what belongs to whom, email me and I'll clarify.:) But I'm not making any dough so please don't try to take my bread!
Rating: R (violence and some sex)
Spoilers: BtVS through Season 5. AtS through Season 2.
Author's Notes: The timeline on this story forks into difference after season five of Buffy. That is the last of the canon stuff. But some notes so everyone knows where I am in this: Buffy died at the end of Season five and never came back. Willow did not resurrect the Slayer and another wasn't chosen until Faith died. Faith is dead as well, although how may come out in the story. As far as if Spike will get a soul or Angel a son, I don't know. The focus of the story is really on Dawn and doesn't take place in either Sunnydale or LA.
Also, it is circa 2008 (I'm going off the assumption Buffy and gang graduated class of '99 then 2001 was the end of Season 5 when Dawn was 15- if I have the math wrong, let me know.;)). Dawn is about twenty-two years old now. So she's of age for nookie and everything else.;) Her personality is very different from how we know her to be, and why will eventually come out in story, but just so I don't get emails, I do know that her personality is quite non-canon.
This story will most likely be full of angst and darkness. I'm trying to capture the romantic despair of vampires as well as bring something different to the Dawn character.
Please email me if you want to put this or any of my stories on your website. I never say no, but I like knowing which sites are supporting my writing. Thanks!
*~*~*
[~2008~ Seven years later.]
She stood outside in the ally and took a puff of her cigarette. She leaned back against the door she came through and watched the snowflakes fall around her. It was too late for the street to be truly busy and with the snow blanketing the world around her, it seemed deafening silent.
Movement from within the building made her push off of the door and stand away from it. A frayed edge of her leather jacket caught against a nail and she heard a slight tear. She looked down and smiled. The jacket no longer looked new. Small tears like that one accumulated quickly while even a few larger holes had been ripped into it during her adventures over the last seven years. Parts of the jacket were re-sewn with black lace, purple mesh, a green velvet patch. She promised herself that the next large hole would be patched with something the color of gold. That way she'd fit in if she ever went to New Orleans for Mardi Gras again.
The jacket wasn't the only thing to change over the last seven, she mused. She picked up a strand of her hair that blew in the slight breeze. It was still long, only jet black with white streaks and tipped in red. She was as pale as those she hung around with, taking their schedules. Sleeping all day and rising with the dead. The perpetual moonlight made did nothing for her tan and she started to look as pale as a vampire. The filter of her cigarette was ringed with her black lipstick and her eyes were rimmed with kohl. The ruddy look to her cheeks was entirely the doing of nature, though, as she wore no other make-up.
But even as her cheeks were red and her hands were icy, she didn't try to cover herself more. She enjoyed the cold. She had tried other places and had other names. Serena in Canada, Martina in Mexico, Jasmine in New Orleans, Jessica in New York, Hailey in Amsterdam, Sasha in Russia, and Patrice in Jamaica. Jamaica was a trip. She didn't stay long. Only time for one vampire. New Orleans crawled with them, but that was another place that could affect a person's mind. She never stayed anywhere for too long, though, so it didn't matter. New York was the city of the perpetually awake. Russia was too cold. Mexico was not cold enough. London seemed right to her right now. The snow fell peacefully and the cold was biting, but you could still conduct business. And although it got very warm for a few months, it was dreary and cold most of the time. Her kind of place. So now she was Rachelle in London. She rarely bothered with last names, mainly because the people she lived around didn't care about last names.
She heard the door creek open on its rusty hinges and she turned.
"What the fuck are you doing out here? It's fucking freezing, Rachelle," the man shook his head and grabbed his arms.
Dawn just smirked. "Like you have a body temperature, Benny." She puffed her cigarette and blew the smoke into his face. He looked like he'd try something, but she knew he wouldn't dare. He didn't want to mess with who claimed her.
"He wants you."
"I bet," she said, bored. She turned her back to him and looked up, seeming to dismiss him.
"He wants you, now."
She sighed heavily and then turned to face him. She walked over, keeping her smile all the while her eyes started to narrow. The left one twitched a little. She grabbed his jacket, much to his surprise, and pulled him closer to her.
"Then have me, he shall," she smirked and pushed him away, walking in and leaving him behind in the cold.
"Fucking bitch," he muttered.
"Wanker," she shot back, loud enough to make him growl.
The heels of her boots clicked on the hard cement as she walked through the outer rim of the warehouse. As she got closer to the warehouse proper, the floor was covered with carpet and more people could be seen milling around. Soft classical music could be heard throughout this part and the lights attached to the ceiling were all colored. Splashes of green, orange, and yellow covered most parts, but the black paint on the windows ensured no light got in and no light got out.
Vampires in darkly romantic outfits sat chatting quietly to one another. It was different with different vampires. Some of them were in love with being a vampire. They loved the image. They were the Ricers. These are the vampires that after reading Anne Rice decided to go find one and beg the bloodsucker to take them from their mortal dwellings or some other sorry bullshit like that. Looking around, Dawn knew that these were the ones that survived. She mused on how many unlucky bastards asked only to be killed outright or worse.
'When in Rome' was her way of thinking, though. As they dressed in lace and ruffles, so did she. She disappeared into a room, closing the door. It was her bedroom, for now. She quickly changed into a long flowing skirt. It was a thin black material covered in green lace so dark, it almost looked black. She pulled a corset styled shirt out of the makeshift closet and did her best to make it as tight as she could, pushing her breasts up so that they poked out the top of the shirt. It was sleeveless with lacy black ruffles trailing from the bottom of her breasts down to where it tucked into the skirt. Over that she pulled on a heavy crushed green velvet jacket. It had long tight sleeves that doubled in width at the wrists, hanging loosely there. It fastened with a black onyx broach at the breast and feel open to reveal the rest of her body while it trailed down her back and nearly dragged on the ground behind her. She wore the same boots. The ensemble was far from authentic but she knew these "ancient ones" barely saw the 1970s to know anything about the 1370s.
She powdered her face and the top of her breasts with a finely fragranced white powder and swept her long hair into a green mesh net, fastening the net to the back of her head with a jeweled beret. She wiped off the black lipstick and replaced it with a flat red color. It accentuated the curve of her lips nicely. She retraced the black around her eyes and drew the pencil out flamboyantly, tracing a curved line to her hair from the corner of each eye. She purposely left her neck bare and a red-jeweled teardrop was stuck under her right eye to complete the look of a goth fit to be the mortal lover of leader of this vampire clan.
Walking with a sure seductiveness, Dawn made her way back out to the guests. She exchanged coy looks with the men and women who looked her way, her eyes always holding a hint of promise. Many of the members of the clan looked away for respect of their leader, but a few bold ones held the look until she bowed her head and looked away. Before she reached him, she could hear the silky voice of her lover.
"Darling, you kept me," he said with the subtle flair of his eyes. There was a tinge of yellow there but she did not look at him with fear, only with a tantalizing smile that promised much.
"I am sorry m'love. Your man, he kept me." She slinked to the side of the chair he sat in. It was a makeshift throne for a makeshift king of a make believe empire of gods. It was adorned with furs, making it seem more luxurious than it was. Dawn leaned down to kiss the vampire. He only offered his cheek to her so she let the tip of her warm tongue lick up the side of his face, only barely touching him enough to send a shiver up his spine. She knew he craved the warmth only she could give him. She straightened, looking him boldly in the eyes for a moment before leaning against his chair to receive the looks of her guests.
She saw many looking her way. It was a common occurrence at a party like this. Many of them could smell her blood and wondered why a mortal was allowed to walk among the blessed ones. It was all she could do to smile enchantingly at them as they droned on about holy days, feasts, coming rituals, and boring parties like this one. But patience wasn't a virtue it was a skill. A skill she had to learn early on to survive not only life or death situations but also boring gatherings of 'blood kin'.
As she looked out over the myriad of faces with a knowing smile, she let her left hand idly play with the fabric on her lover's shoulder. He seemed to enjoy the attention she paid him, and when he took her hand she smiled down at him.
"Tonight is a special night, my darling. Do you know why?" His eyes bore into hers and she tried to look as taken with him as she could.
"No, why?" she asked, feigning curiosity.
"Because tonight we make you one of us." He watched her closely for her reaction.
Shit. She had been afraid of this. Good thing she had planed to kill him tonight anyway.
Her eyes widened and a full smile came to her lips. "Really?" said in a reverent tone.
"Oh yes. You have been a loyal woman to this clan. It is time you took your place as its queen."
She knelt down beside his throne, her hand cupping his face. A few of the vampires around them watched, chuckling lewdly. "This is a special night, then. Will you be the one?" she asked shyly, turning her face downwards.
"Of course my dove. I would not trust such a task to any other."
"So then this party is for me?" she asked as if it were her greatest aspiration.
"And none other," he whispered kissing the inside of her hand.
Dawn did her best to seem giddy with excitement. "Now?" she asked hopefully.
He chuckled deep in his throat, causing those around him to also chuckle.
"Looks like your bride is ready, Victor," one of them said loudly.
"So it appears," he said silkily. After a moment of looking into her eyes he nodded. He broke the look to signal to his crew to escort the guests out. Without another look he regally stood and offered his hand to her while she still knelt. She took his hand and stood, falling into step beside him.
When they entered the bedroom, she closed the double doors behind her. He turned to her and she smiled as she made her way to him. She unfastened the heavy velvet cape and let it fall to the floor and unveiled her hair. Her neck, shoulders, and arms were completely uncovered. Her skin slightly pimpled from the cold air that surrounded them. Vampires had no need for heating, and therefore the only warmth she could find came from clothing or blankets. Not that she minded much.
His eyes seemed hungry as she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a passionate kiss. His hands went around her waist, made tinier by the corset styled shirt. She moaned into his mouth and broke away.
"I feel like some gothic princess who has finally found her king. Take me into your life and make me of your blood," she said passionately as she kissed him again. He responded to her, his hard body rubbing against hers as they embraced. After the moment he shoved her onto her back on the bed and she lay sprawled there, her skirt climbing up to her knees. He jumped down to land in between her legs and she wrapped them around his waist, pulling him down as she lifted her pelvis. He moaned and started to kiss her breasts, pulling them from the corset top to cover them with his mouth. She writhed under him, pulling his head to her breasts with one hand as she deftly reached for the stake she had planted under the bed. She pulled it loose from the tape that suspended it and quickly plunged it into his heart.
As if flicking off a light, Dawn stood up and brushed herself off, quietly dressing in her own clothes. Tight black jeans, her boots, a tight fitting long sleeved sweater of dark red, her leather jacket, and her various weapons expertly hidden throughout the room. When she finished, she quietly slipped out into the warehouse and took care of the rest of the gang, one by one.
*~*~*
She fished the key out from inside her boot where she kept it taped to the upper part of the toe. That way she always knew where it was, but no one else did. Those people who had an annoying habit of checking footwear for money or anything of value never found it and therefore her anonymity was kept nicely.
Closing the door and locking the many mechanisms after her, Dawn threw her leather jacket onto the back of the chair just to her left. It was a simple apartment. To the right of the front door there was a tiny kitchenette with the smallest stove and oven she had ever seen. The refrigerator was shorter than she was and she had two pantries. One held a few cooking and eating items while the other held her dry foods. Usually she didn't keep anything in the refrigerator except soda, when she could get it. She was rarely home enough to make it worth her while.
The front door opened into a room, the style of a hotel room. To the left of her sat a small round table and two chairs. They came with the room. The rest of the room was empty of furniture, although a regular occupant might put their living room there.
Also to the left of her was the bedroom and bathroom, which together was almost as big as the living room. The bed that was in there was compliments of the owner as well. The bed was still unmade from the last time she slept here. Frankly, she didn't care. She stripped off her boots and her pants and sat on the bed, pulling off her stockings and throwing them in a corner with the rest of her clothes. She shook dust out of her hair and onto the ground.
She went back into the living room for a moment and retrieved from her jacket pocket a small glass vial. She found a whole load of these little bottles with miniature corks in the necks to keep the contents in. On a piece of duct tape Dawn wrote Victor III and set the bottle, with a sampling of his ashes on the dresser, also rented along with the room. She placed him right behind Victor I and Victor II. Victor was a very popular name for vampires now-a-days, apparently. She grabbed a box and flipped the radio on while she was up and then dragged the box to the edge of her bed. She leaned down and grabbed a good medium sized tree branch and started whittling it down to a stake.
After she finished the stake she tossed it into another box across the room, smiling when it deftly landed within the box walls. Her eyes glinted off of something on the bathroom counter and her eyes widened. She rushed into the bathroom and snatched the large cross necklace off of the counter, fastening it to her neck instantly. She looked at herself in the mirror, surprised that she had failed to remember her own ritual. It was the first time.
She had taken to wearing the necklace anytime she wasn't on the hunt. It had become sort of a symbol of something to Dawn. When she was free from obligation she wore this necklace. But she knew she never wore it for long. Soon another vampire will take the place of Victor III just like he had taken the place of the vampire before him and she will take the necklace off again, only to don it when that vampire died.
After a moment of staring at herself in the mirror, Dawn removed the rest of her clothing and slipped into the shower, letting the warm water play over the cuts and tired muscles of her body. The vampires she slayed tonight were not tough, but they were plentiful and a few got a few good scratches in. These burned under the water, but Dawn didn't care. She liked the burn. She liked the hurt. Pain was the only involuntary feeling she could have now.
Wrapping one of her two towels around her long hair and the other around her body, Dawn walked to the kitchen and pulled a warm V8 out of her cupboard. She popped the can open and drank it until it was done. Shutting off the lights and the radio, she crawled into her bed, wearing only the towel on her head and the cross necklace. Something poked her soft skin and she rolled over and shoved wood chips and dust particles off the edge of the bed before settling to sleep.
Her body was definitely tired enough to fall right to sleep, but she didn't let herself drift right away. She listened to the sounds of her apartment, getting used to them again. She had spent nearly a month with Victor III and his cronies. It had been hard to gain his trust. Most vampires would kill a girl who walked in so brazenly and declared herself his. But she had been watching Victor III for a while and knew that he would go for that sort of an introduction. Ever after that she had to repeatedly prove her worthiness and willingness to serve him. It was tiring. She much preferred the vampires that would make her fight for her place beside him, as opposed to simper and scrape to do his bidding. But vampires, like people, came in all different flavors.
European vampires tended to be very different from the ones she had encountered so often in Sunny California. The vampires she saw in California, and in some other parts of the United States, often employed the kill now and ask why she was offering herself later method of dealing with things. There was very little art to the kill and it was tiring. She kept herself in good shape, but she was only human. She developed a more covert way of getting close to the vampires and taking out small clans of them while she was in Europe. The vampires here seemed to be more refined but infinitely more bored. They constantly were hunting for amusement or entertainment of some kind and a young goth willing to place her body in their hands was too entertaining to ruin by instant attempts at feeding.
She had been living in this part of town for almost a year, which is quite a record for her, and in that time she had done away with twenty vampire clan leaders and numerous clanlings. All twenty were properly represented by their own bottle of dust. Some of the vampires had been easy prey, but most of them each made her play a different role, make a different Dawn. Normally she went by Rachelle or Rachael or something like that around here. But she hadn't really gotten much of a reputation because the vampires she killed were generally small clans and she killed every one of them, not daring to come home until they are all found. Although they wouldn't be able to come into her dwelling, the vampires here were much more dramatic and rather than stomp their feet until an hour before dawn and take off for cover, they'd burn the place down and try to catch her coming out.
Sometimes she could get a clan finished off after a few weeks and sometimes it took longer. She had thought this job was going to take much longer, until she heard about the masque. It was being whispered throughout the world of the vampires that a great vampire prince was coming out of seclusion to attend the masque. That intrigued Dawn very much. To meet vampire royalty, as it were, would be fascinating. She wondered to herself how long a job like that would take.
Victor III had been looking forward to the masque. It was going to be his opportunity to show off his newest acquisition, her. He had been bragging to anyone who would listen about his prowess drawing a human beauty to him like a "butterfly to a flame". She knew she had stayed in London long enough after that started to happen. She planned to kill Victor III and his group and find a new place to call home. Too many vampires who still walk London has seen her on the arm of Victor III and that meant she would have a harder time of convincing them to trust her, especially if they couldn't find old Vic. But the masque seemed like a perfect opportunity to give London a parting shot before she left. Whatever vampires recognized her before wouldn't after she dressed properly and kept her mask close to her face at all times. And she would wear something that they wouldn't expect her in, hopefully. She still had no idea what to go as. But when she had heard about the masque, she knew that it was time to kill Victor III. It wouldn't do to go to a vampire ball in the hopes of finding a good vampire to kill while still having her old vampire on her arm. So Victor III was destined to become dust.
Dawn yawned and stretched her lithe body. Slowly, she drifted off into the oblivion of sleep.
Disclaimer: Dawn and the characters surrounding Buffy the Vampire Slayer do not belong to me. They belong to the mind of Joss Whedon. The vampire Edric is my character, though, as is many of the supporting characters of this story. If there is any confusion about what belongs to whom, email me and I'll clarify.:) But I'm not making any dough so please don't try to take my bread!
Rating: R (violence and some sex)
Spoilers: BtVS through Season 5. AtS through Season 2.
Author's Notes: The timeline on this story forks into difference after season five of Buffy. That is the last of the canon stuff. But some notes so everyone knows where I am in this: Buffy died at the end of Season five and never came back. Willow did not resurrect the Slayer and another wasn't chosen until Faith died. Faith is dead as well, although how may come out in the story. As far as if Spike will get a soul or Angel a son, I don't know. The focus of the story is really on Dawn and doesn't take place in either Sunnydale or LA.
Also, it is circa 2008 (I'm going off the assumption Buffy and gang graduated class of '99 then 2001 was the end of Season 5 when Dawn was 15- if I have the math wrong, let me know.;)). Dawn is about twenty-two years old now. So she's of age for nookie and everything else.;) Her personality is very different from how we know her to be, and why will eventually come out in story, but just so I don't get emails, I do know that her personality is quite non-canon.
This story will most likely be full of angst and darkness. I'm trying to capture the romantic despair of vampires as well as bring something different to the Dawn character.
Please email me if you want to put this or any of my stories on your website. I never say no, but I like knowing which sites are supporting my writing. Thanks!
*~*~*
[~2008~ Seven years later.]
She stood outside in the ally and took a puff of her cigarette. She leaned back against the door she came through and watched the snowflakes fall around her. It was too late for the street to be truly busy and with the snow blanketing the world around her, it seemed deafening silent.
Movement from within the building made her push off of the door and stand away from it. A frayed edge of her leather jacket caught against a nail and she heard a slight tear. She looked down and smiled. The jacket no longer looked new. Small tears like that one accumulated quickly while even a few larger holes had been ripped into it during her adventures over the last seven years. Parts of the jacket were re-sewn with black lace, purple mesh, a green velvet patch. She promised herself that the next large hole would be patched with something the color of gold. That way she'd fit in if she ever went to New Orleans for Mardi Gras again.
The jacket wasn't the only thing to change over the last seven, she mused. She picked up a strand of her hair that blew in the slight breeze. It was still long, only jet black with white streaks and tipped in red. She was as pale as those she hung around with, taking their schedules. Sleeping all day and rising with the dead. The perpetual moonlight made did nothing for her tan and she started to look as pale as a vampire. The filter of her cigarette was ringed with her black lipstick and her eyes were rimmed with kohl. The ruddy look to her cheeks was entirely the doing of nature, though, as she wore no other make-up.
But even as her cheeks were red and her hands were icy, she didn't try to cover herself more. She enjoyed the cold. She had tried other places and had other names. Serena in Canada, Martina in Mexico, Jasmine in New Orleans, Jessica in New York, Hailey in Amsterdam, Sasha in Russia, and Patrice in Jamaica. Jamaica was a trip. She didn't stay long. Only time for one vampire. New Orleans crawled with them, but that was another place that could affect a person's mind. She never stayed anywhere for too long, though, so it didn't matter. New York was the city of the perpetually awake. Russia was too cold. Mexico was not cold enough. London seemed right to her right now. The snow fell peacefully and the cold was biting, but you could still conduct business. And although it got very warm for a few months, it was dreary and cold most of the time. Her kind of place. So now she was Rachelle in London. She rarely bothered with last names, mainly because the people she lived around didn't care about last names.
She heard the door creek open on its rusty hinges and she turned.
"What the fuck are you doing out here? It's fucking freezing, Rachelle," the man shook his head and grabbed his arms.
Dawn just smirked. "Like you have a body temperature, Benny." She puffed her cigarette and blew the smoke into his face. He looked like he'd try something, but she knew he wouldn't dare. He didn't want to mess with who claimed her.
"He wants you."
"I bet," she said, bored. She turned her back to him and looked up, seeming to dismiss him.
"He wants you, now."
She sighed heavily and then turned to face him. She walked over, keeping her smile all the while her eyes started to narrow. The left one twitched a little. She grabbed his jacket, much to his surprise, and pulled him closer to her.
"Then have me, he shall," she smirked and pushed him away, walking in and leaving him behind in the cold.
"Fucking bitch," he muttered.
"Wanker," she shot back, loud enough to make him growl.
The heels of her boots clicked on the hard cement as she walked through the outer rim of the warehouse. As she got closer to the warehouse proper, the floor was covered with carpet and more people could be seen milling around. Soft classical music could be heard throughout this part and the lights attached to the ceiling were all colored. Splashes of green, orange, and yellow covered most parts, but the black paint on the windows ensured no light got in and no light got out.
Vampires in darkly romantic outfits sat chatting quietly to one another. It was different with different vampires. Some of them were in love with being a vampire. They loved the image. They were the Ricers. These are the vampires that after reading Anne Rice decided to go find one and beg the bloodsucker to take them from their mortal dwellings or some other sorry bullshit like that. Looking around, Dawn knew that these were the ones that survived. She mused on how many unlucky bastards asked only to be killed outright or worse.
'When in Rome' was her way of thinking, though. As they dressed in lace and ruffles, so did she. She disappeared into a room, closing the door. It was her bedroom, for now. She quickly changed into a long flowing skirt. It was a thin black material covered in green lace so dark, it almost looked black. She pulled a corset styled shirt out of the makeshift closet and did her best to make it as tight as she could, pushing her breasts up so that they poked out the top of the shirt. It was sleeveless with lacy black ruffles trailing from the bottom of her breasts down to where it tucked into the skirt. Over that she pulled on a heavy crushed green velvet jacket. It had long tight sleeves that doubled in width at the wrists, hanging loosely there. It fastened with a black onyx broach at the breast and feel open to reveal the rest of her body while it trailed down her back and nearly dragged on the ground behind her. She wore the same boots. The ensemble was far from authentic but she knew these "ancient ones" barely saw the 1970s to know anything about the 1370s.
She powdered her face and the top of her breasts with a finely fragranced white powder and swept her long hair into a green mesh net, fastening the net to the back of her head with a jeweled beret. She wiped off the black lipstick and replaced it with a flat red color. It accentuated the curve of her lips nicely. She retraced the black around her eyes and drew the pencil out flamboyantly, tracing a curved line to her hair from the corner of each eye. She purposely left her neck bare and a red-jeweled teardrop was stuck under her right eye to complete the look of a goth fit to be the mortal lover of leader of this vampire clan.
Walking with a sure seductiveness, Dawn made her way back out to the guests. She exchanged coy looks with the men and women who looked her way, her eyes always holding a hint of promise. Many of the members of the clan looked away for respect of their leader, but a few bold ones held the look until she bowed her head and looked away. Before she reached him, she could hear the silky voice of her lover.
"Darling, you kept me," he said with the subtle flair of his eyes. There was a tinge of yellow there but she did not look at him with fear, only with a tantalizing smile that promised much.
"I am sorry m'love. Your man, he kept me." She slinked to the side of the chair he sat in. It was a makeshift throne for a makeshift king of a make believe empire of gods. It was adorned with furs, making it seem more luxurious than it was. Dawn leaned down to kiss the vampire. He only offered his cheek to her so she let the tip of her warm tongue lick up the side of his face, only barely touching him enough to send a shiver up his spine. She knew he craved the warmth only she could give him. She straightened, looking him boldly in the eyes for a moment before leaning against his chair to receive the looks of her guests.
She saw many looking her way. It was a common occurrence at a party like this. Many of them could smell her blood and wondered why a mortal was allowed to walk among the blessed ones. It was all she could do to smile enchantingly at them as they droned on about holy days, feasts, coming rituals, and boring parties like this one. But patience wasn't a virtue it was a skill. A skill she had to learn early on to survive not only life or death situations but also boring gatherings of 'blood kin'.
As she looked out over the myriad of faces with a knowing smile, she let her left hand idly play with the fabric on her lover's shoulder. He seemed to enjoy the attention she paid him, and when he took her hand she smiled down at him.
"Tonight is a special night, my darling. Do you know why?" His eyes bore into hers and she tried to look as taken with him as she could.
"No, why?" she asked, feigning curiosity.
"Because tonight we make you one of us." He watched her closely for her reaction.
Shit. She had been afraid of this. Good thing she had planed to kill him tonight anyway.
Her eyes widened and a full smile came to her lips. "Really?" said in a reverent tone.
"Oh yes. You have been a loyal woman to this clan. It is time you took your place as its queen."
She knelt down beside his throne, her hand cupping his face. A few of the vampires around them watched, chuckling lewdly. "This is a special night, then. Will you be the one?" she asked shyly, turning her face downwards.
"Of course my dove. I would not trust such a task to any other."
"So then this party is for me?" she asked as if it were her greatest aspiration.
"And none other," he whispered kissing the inside of her hand.
Dawn did her best to seem giddy with excitement. "Now?" she asked hopefully.
He chuckled deep in his throat, causing those around him to also chuckle.
"Looks like your bride is ready, Victor," one of them said loudly.
"So it appears," he said silkily. After a moment of looking into her eyes he nodded. He broke the look to signal to his crew to escort the guests out. Without another look he regally stood and offered his hand to her while she still knelt. She took his hand and stood, falling into step beside him.
When they entered the bedroom, she closed the double doors behind her. He turned to her and she smiled as she made her way to him. She unfastened the heavy velvet cape and let it fall to the floor and unveiled her hair. Her neck, shoulders, and arms were completely uncovered. Her skin slightly pimpled from the cold air that surrounded them. Vampires had no need for heating, and therefore the only warmth she could find came from clothing or blankets. Not that she minded much.
His eyes seemed hungry as she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a passionate kiss. His hands went around her waist, made tinier by the corset styled shirt. She moaned into his mouth and broke away.
"I feel like some gothic princess who has finally found her king. Take me into your life and make me of your blood," she said passionately as she kissed him again. He responded to her, his hard body rubbing against hers as they embraced. After the moment he shoved her onto her back on the bed and she lay sprawled there, her skirt climbing up to her knees. He jumped down to land in between her legs and she wrapped them around his waist, pulling him down as she lifted her pelvis. He moaned and started to kiss her breasts, pulling them from the corset top to cover them with his mouth. She writhed under him, pulling his head to her breasts with one hand as she deftly reached for the stake she had planted under the bed. She pulled it loose from the tape that suspended it and quickly plunged it into his heart.
As if flicking off a light, Dawn stood up and brushed herself off, quietly dressing in her own clothes. Tight black jeans, her boots, a tight fitting long sleeved sweater of dark red, her leather jacket, and her various weapons expertly hidden throughout the room. When she finished, she quietly slipped out into the warehouse and took care of the rest of the gang, one by one.
*~*~*
She fished the key out from inside her boot where she kept it taped to the upper part of the toe. That way she always knew where it was, but no one else did. Those people who had an annoying habit of checking footwear for money or anything of value never found it and therefore her anonymity was kept nicely.
Closing the door and locking the many mechanisms after her, Dawn threw her leather jacket onto the back of the chair just to her left. It was a simple apartment. To the right of the front door there was a tiny kitchenette with the smallest stove and oven she had ever seen. The refrigerator was shorter than she was and she had two pantries. One held a few cooking and eating items while the other held her dry foods. Usually she didn't keep anything in the refrigerator except soda, when she could get it. She was rarely home enough to make it worth her while.
The front door opened into a room, the style of a hotel room. To the left of her sat a small round table and two chairs. They came with the room. The rest of the room was empty of furniture, although a regular occupant might put their living room there.
Also to the left of her was the bedroom and bathroom, which together was almost as big as the living room. The bed that was in there was compliments of the owner as well. The bed was still unmade from the last time she slept here. Frankly, she didn't care. She stripped off her boots and her pants and sat on the bed, pulling off her stockings and throwing them in a corner with the rest of her clothes. She shook dust out of her hair and onto the ground.
She went back into the living room for a moment and retrieved from her jacket pocket a small glass vial. She found a whole load of these little bottles with miniature corks in the necks to keep the contents in. On a piece of duct tape Dawn wrote Victor III and set the bottle, with a sampling of his ashes on the dresser, also rented along with the room. She placed him right behind Victor I and Victor II. Victor was a very popular name for vampires now-a-days, apparently. She grabbed a box and flipped the radio on while she was up and then dragged the box to the edge of her bed. She leaned down and grabbed a good medium sized tree branch and started whittling it down to a stake.
After she finished the stake she tossed it into another box across the room, smiling when it deftly landed within the box walls. Her eyes glinted off of something on the bathroom counter and her eyes widened. She rushed into the bathroom and snatched the large cross necklace off of the counter, fastening it to her neck instantly. She looked at herself in the mirror, surprised that she had failed to remember her own ritual. It was the first time.
She had taken to wearing the necklace anytime she wasn't on the hunt. It had become sort of a symbol of something to Dawn. When she was free from obligation she wore this necklace. But she knew she never wore it for long. Soon another vampire will take the place of Victor III just like he had taken the place of the vampire before him and she will take the necklace off again, only to don it when that vampire died.
After a moment of staring at herself in the mirror, Dawn removed the rest of her clothing and slipped into the shower, letting the warm water play over the cuts and tired muscles of her body. The vampires she slayed tonight were not tough, but they were plentiful and a few got a few good scratches in. These burned under the water, but Dawn didn't care. She liked the burn. She liked the hurt. Pain was the only involuntary feeling she could have now.
Wrapping one of her two towels around her long hair and the other around her body, Dawn walked to the kitchen and pulled a warm V8 out of her cupboard. She popped the can open and drank it until it was done. Shutting off the lights and the radio, she crawled into her bed, wearing only the towel on her head and the cross necklace. Something poked her soft skin and she rolled over and shoved wood chips and dust particles off the edge of the bed before settling to sleep.
Her body was definitely tired enough to fall right to sleep, but she didn't let herself drift right away. She listened to the sounds of her apartment, getting used to them again. She had spent nearly a month with Victor III and his cronies. It had been hard to gain his trust. Most vampires would kill a girl who walked in so brazenly and declared herself his. But she had been watching Victor III for a while and knew that he would go for that sort of an introduction. Ever after that she had to repeatedly prove her worthiness and willingness to serve him. It was tiring. She much preferred the vampires that would make her fight for her place beside him, as opposed to simper and scrape to do his bidding. But vampires, like people, came in all different flavors.
European vampires tended to be very different from the ones she had encountered so often in Sunny California. The vampires she saw in California, and in some other parts of the United States, often employed the kill now and ask why she was offering herself later method of dealing with things. There was very little art to the kill and it was tiring. She kept herself in good shape, but she was only human. She developed a more covert way of getting close to the vampires and taking out small clans of them while she was in Europe. The vampires here seemed to be more refined but infinitely more bored. They constantly were hunting for amusement or entertainment of some kind and a young goth willing to place her body in their hands was too entertaining to ruin by instant attempts at feeding.
She had been living in this part of town for almost a year, which is quite a record for her, and in that time she had done away with twenty vampire clan leaders and numerous clanlings. All twenty were properly represented by their own bottle of dust. Some of the vampires had been easy prey, but most of them each made her play a different role, make a different Dawn. Normally she went by Rachelle or Rachael or something like that around here. But she hadn't really gotten much of a reputation because the vampires she killed were generally small clans and she killed every one of them, not daring to come home until they are all found. Although they wouldn't be able to come into her dwelling, the vampires here were much more dramatic and rather than stomp their feet until an hour before dawn and take off for cover, they'd burn the place down and try to catch her coming out.
Sometimes she could get a clan finished off after a few weeks and sometimes it took longer. She had thought this job was going to take much longer, until she heard about the masque. It was being whispered throughout the world of the vampires that a great vampire prince was coming out of seclusion to attend the masque. That intrigued Dawn very much. To meet vampire royalty, as it were, would be fascinating. She wondered to herself how long a job like that would take.
Victor III had been looking forward to the masque. It was going to be his opportunity to show off his newest acquisition, her. He had been bragging to anyone who would listen about his prowess drawing a human beauty to him like a "butterfly to a flame". She knew she had stayed in London long enough after that started to happen. She planned to kill Victor III and his group and find a new place to call home. Too many vampires who still walk London has seen her on the arm of Victor III and that meant she would have a harder time of convincing them to trust her, especially if they couldn't find old Vic. But the masque seemed like a perfect opportunity to give London a parting shot before she left. Whatever vampires recognized her before wouldn't after she dressed properly and kept her mask close to her face at all times. And she would wear something that they wouldn't expect her in, hopefully. She still had no idea what to go as. But when she had heard about the masque, she knew that it was time to kill Victor III. It wouldn't do to go to a vampire ball in the hopes of finding a good vampire to kill while still having her old vampire on her arm. So Victor III was destined to become dust.
Dawn yawned and stretched her lithe body. Slowly, she drifted off into the oblivion of sleep.