Summary: The Battle of Sunnydale was lost, The First was slowly taking over the world and the Scoobies were dead. Dawn Summers makes a wish to D'Hoffryn to go back and change how it all goes in the hopes of saving those she loves.
A/U: Starting in season 2 and onwards.
Pairings: Dawn/Faith, Buffy/OC, Giles/Jenny Calendar, Xander/Anya (trying to figure out if I should go with her canon depowering or some other way to get her paired with Xander), Willow/Tara.
Disclaimer: Disney owns Buffy
Author's Note: Just a word of warning there could be some cuss words here and there, I will try minimize that as much as I can given that I am giving this a T rating.
Prologue
June 15, 2009, Friday
Undisclosed Location, Sunnydale
Dawn's weary eyes scanned the dismal sight before her: the grimy, cracked porcelain sink oozing water from a worn faucet. She instinctively sought a mirror above the sink, hoping to catch a glimpse of herself, but the emptiness reflected her isolation. The mirror had been taken away on her first day in this wretched place, a cruel precaution to prevent self-harm, or so they said. A heavy sigh escaped her lips, burdened by the memory of its absence.
For five long, desolate years, she had been confined here, trapped in this dreary cell. It all started about a year after the haunting battle with the First Evil's Turok-Hans at Sunnydale High, a battle that forever changed her life. The cell offered little solace, with only two high windows barred with steel that barely permitted slivers of light to seep through. Encased by ten-foot stone walls and a forbidding steel door with rivets driven through it, escape seemed like an impossible dream. No handle, knob, or keyhole adorned the door on her side.
Dawn knew this cell was originally intended for a Slayer, perhaps the last one standing, as fate deemed her to be. An unfortunate twist of destiny had led to her becoming the Last Slayer, after Faith valiantly gave her life to protect Dawn from one of the menacing Turok-Hans.
Time wore on, dragging its feet, and she remained alone, confined within those four suffocating walls, sustained only by the Bringers' provision of food. They kept her alive but offered no warmth or comfort, treating her like a fragile being, kept at bay like a wild creature. Amid the monotony, she dedicated herself to maintaining her physical strength, finding solace in the discipline of exercise as it kept her sanity from slipping away. Yet, even that anchor in her life began to fade as the days blended into one another, and the focus on her escape plan waned.
She paced relentlessly, trained tirelessly, and washed in the small routine that governed her existence. The Bringers maintained their cautious distance, always armed and moving in groups of three or more, as though she were a dangerous beast. Hope seemed like a distant glimmer, but deep inside, Dawn clung to it, hoping for the day when the Bringers' vigilance would falter, and she could finally enact her plan. She yearned for an opportunity to invoke D'Hoffryn, a vengeance demon, and travel back in time to rewrite the sorrowful chapters of her life.
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In the darkness of that fateful day, the atmosphere in the cell was tense, heavy with apprehension. The silence was broken by the sound of a body being unceremoniously thrown inside, the thud reverberating through the confined space. There, lying bruised and bloodied yet somehow defiantly conscious, was a girl. Her dark, exotic features stood out in the dimness. Though tall, she bore the unmistakable aura of youth, not more than sixteen years old, if that.
Through the blood and pain, her eyes burned with a wild defiance that couldn't be ignored. Dawn couldn't help but sense something familiar in those eyes—a flicker of recognition. She knew without a doubt that this girl was a Slayer. The very notion puzzled her deeply. Wasn't she supposed to be the last? That's what they had told her, and it was the reason they had kept her alive, to ensure that another Slayer could never be called upon. Yet here, before her, lay living proof that something had changed. The Powers That Be must have orchestrated this twist of fate, but why? Why had another Slayer been chosen while she still breathed?
As the girl's trembling voice broke the silence, her words were filled with disbelief and desperation. "Oh, my God. You're not… you're not Faith Lehane."
Dawn's heart ached at the memory of Faith's sacrifice, and she spoke gently, her voice tinged with sorrow, "Faith is gone. I'm Dawn."
The girl's eyes widened with realization, her fear and confusion evident. "You're the other Slayer's sister," she whispered. "We thought you were dead, and Faith was locked up here."
Curiosity tinged with anxiety swirled within Dawn. "Who is 'we'?" she inquired, eager to understand the girl's story.
Her response was hesitant, as if speaking the truth was both painful and dangerous, "Me and my Watcher."
Dawn's emotions churned like a tempest, an overwhelming mix of confusion, surprise, and hope. Her voice trembled with curiosity as she pressed for answers, "And who are you?"
The girl, August, seemed to summon courage from within, taking a deep, shaky breath. Blood still smeared under her nose, evidence of the brutality she had endured. "My name is August," she replied, her voice carrying the weight of newfound responsibility. "I'm a Slayer now."
A wave of bewilderment washed over Dawn, struggling to comprehend the inexplicable turn of events. Faith and Buffy, her sister, were gone, and their deaths had brought her to this desolate cell. The knowledge of being the Last Slayer had been etched into her very being, a burden she had carried with resignation. Yet now, this young girl stood before her, claiming to be a Slayer as well. It defied everything she thought she knew.
In her confusion, Dawn tried to explain her own situation to August, her words tinged with frustration and lingering sorrow, "Faith and Buffy are dead; that's why they kept me locked up in here. I was called when Faith died. The First's minions, they told me I was kept alive to prevent any more Slayers from being called. They planned to use me as a pawn until the First's domination was complete. Only then would I die. So, how were you called?"
August's response carried an air of somber determination, "My Watcher harnessed ancient magics, the same ones used to call the First Slayer, to call forth a new Slayer."
Realization struck like a bolt of lightning. The name escaped Dawn's lips like a whispered revelation, "Willow." The pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Willow was the only person she knew capable of wielding such extraordinary power and performing the spell to summon a new Slayer. "She's alive?" Dawn asked, her heart leaping with a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that surrounded her.
"Yes, she is," August confirmed, a glimmer of relief shining in her eyes. "Have you been here all along? All this time?" she asked with a mix of surprise and sympathy.
Dawn's nod carried a heavy weight, her heart burdened by the years of isolation and confinement. "All this time," she whispered, her voice tinged with both resignation and determination. Turning away from August, she felt a rush of conflicting emotions, knowing that despite the dire circumstances, she now had someone else to share this desolate existence with. "And now I've got company," she stated, her tone reflecting a bittersweet realization.
As Dawn paced the room, her anxiety was palpable, her mind tangled with unanswered questions. August observed her, trying to fathom the pain and struggles that Dawn had endured in this forsaken place. "But haven't you tried to—" August began to ask, but before she could finish, Dawn abruptly spun around, her eyes ablaze with emotion.
"Every day," Dawn snapped, her frustration and determination colliding like a fierce storm. "What the heck do you think I'm doing here? I'm a Slayer, just like you. How much territory does the First control?" Her words carried a sense of urgency, as if the boundaries of their confinement were closing in on her.
August's response carried a sense of quiet desperation, the weight of the situation settling heavily upon her. "All of the Hellmouths and at least a thirty-mile radius around each one," she admitted. The hope of finding an escape seemed dim, and she turned her eyes to Dawn, seeking solace and answers. "So, there's no way out of here?" she asked, her voice soft and vulnerable. "You've tried everything?"
The weight of five long, agonizing years hung heavily in the air, their impact etched into every word Dawn uttered. The prospect of having another soul to share her captivity with brought a glimmer of hope, but she knew all too well that the First would not easily relinquish its hold on them. "Maybe with two of us now it'd be different," she began, her voice tinged with a mix of hope and doubt, "but I figure the First will just send more Bringers now to bring the meals."
August's response was soft, her vulnerability shining through the moisture that welled up in her eyes. She wiped them away bitterly, composing herself with a determined steadiness that seemed to emanate from a deep, inner resolve. "Then I guess we don't have any choice," she admitted, her voice tinged with resignation.
The weight of their reality settled heavily on Dawn's heart, her words filled with a raw mix of pain and despair. "It sucks. It truly does," she confessed, her own emotions laid bare. "But until they get stupid or let down their guard, there's nothing we can do."
August, with her short, brunette hair and green eyes, seemed to harbor a secret, and she finally met Dawn's gaze, revealing eyes that were both crazy and defiant, cold yet decisive. "There's something I can do," she uttered softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Dawn's curiosity and apprehension mingled as she raised an eyebrow, studying August carefully. "What's that? What can you do?" she asked cautiously.
In that moment, August's demeanor shifted, her once soft eyes hardening again into an unwavering resolve. The words she spoke sent shivers down Dawn's spine, "I can kill you."
The haunting words reverberated off the cold, unforgiving stone walls of the cell, bouncing back and filling the air with an eerie echo. The silence that followed was heavy, oppressive, as if the very walls held their breath. From beyond the imposing steel door, no sound emanated from the corridor, creating an unsettling void of stillness.
Dawn's heart pounded in her chest, the weight of those words settling like a leaden burden upon her. Her muscles tensed, coiled with the years of relentless training she had endured within the fifteen-foot square prison. This chamber of rock and metal had been designed with a single, sinister purpose—to keep her trapped, caged like an animal. Five long, grueling years had honed her body into a weapon, a lethal instrument of survival. Every ounce of her being, a coiled spring, a razor-sharp scalpel, a fierce bullwhip—she had become all of that and more.
Throughout her captivity, she had faced the Bringers numerous times, the shadowy agents of the First Evil, as they brought her sustenance, clothing, or bedding. Their visits were never without force, armed with stun guns and ready to quell any sign of defiance. Dawn had tried to escape time and time again, only to be thwarted by their overwhelming numbers. Yet, in all those desperate attempts and countless combat dreams, she had never envisioned a day when her first adversary as a Slayer would be another Slayer.
August's senses were keenly attuned to the shifting atmosphere in the cell. The realization of the unease she had caused Dawn prompted her to subtly alter her stance, her body poised like a coiled serpent, ready to strike or defend at a moment's notice.
"You're not thinking clearly." Dawn's voice trembled with a raw emotion that had rarely been heard in recent years, a raspy whisper that betrayed the toll of her captivity. Her heart ached, realizing how long it had been since she had used her voice so freely, so forcefully.
August stood before her, her body tense and alive with energy, like a high-tension wire buzzing with electricity. Her tongue darted out, moistening her lips as she held her ground, unyielding in her resolve. The desperation in her gaze spoke volumes, and Dawn knew that the girl's mind was set, regardless of the consequences.
"My thinking is perfectly clear, Summers. It's your head that's not screwed on straight here," August retorted, her voice sharp and unyielding. She swept her arm in a gesture that encompassed the dim, confining space around them, the walls closing in like the bars of a cage. "Look around. You're a zoo animal. They've kept you like a tiger in a cage, and you've let them."
Dawn's heart tightened at the painful truth in August's words. The years of confinement, the endless battles, and the thwarted escape attempts weighed heavily on her shoulders. She spoke with a mix of defiance and sorrow, "For more than three years, I tried to escape every time the door was opened. They took to stunning me on principle." Her voice wavered, carrying the weight of her struggles and the anguish of her failures. "After a while, I decided to study them instead and try to figure out the psychology of my jailers. Within six months, I knew them all, their vulnerabilities, and what would work to distract them. Just from listening and watching." Her eyes bore a wisdom that came from years of learning the enemy's patterns and devising strategies within the confines of her cell. "Two days before I planned to make my escape, they were all replaced. I believe the First guessed what I was doing."
August's expression grew grimmer, her belief unwavering. She shook her hands out, her frustration tangible as she glared at Dawn. "Exactly my point," she declared. "You're a pet. Your master knows you too well."
Dawn froze at the words, feeling an icy chill claw at her heart. "I don't have a master," she stated firmly, the denial laced with an emotional undercurrent she couldn't ignore.
"Really?" August's words struck a nerve, and the emotional turmoil within Dawn intensified. Her heart felt like it was pounding in her throat, and her palms grew clammy as she shifted uncomfortably. "Look around. They might as well have one of those little hamster wheels in here. Or a Habitrail."
Keeping a wary eye on August, Dawn hesitated before reluctantly surveying her surroundings. The cold, unforgiving stone walls and the throw rugs that seemed incongruous in this barren prison. The plastic rack displaying the meager, standardized supplies they provided her with—blue jeans, white tanks, and sweatshirts, the uniform of her captivity. Her metal-framed bed, a stark reminder of the lengths they had gone to ensure she had no means to harm them. And the steel table, bolted firmly to the floor, no wood in sight, lest it could be turned into a deadly weapon against her captors.
Dawn's voice trembled as she tried to defend her predicament, the bitterness of her captivity leaving a bitter aftertaste in her words. "I don't see what you see. They needed me alive to make sure another Slayer wasn't called," she explained, her voice heavy with the weight of survival. "Food and water, clothing," she listed the basic provisions they offered her.
But August's conviction remained steadfast, and her head shook with a mixture of incredulity and concern. "All this time, though," she stressed, her eyes searching Dawn's for answers. "If you realized that you couldn't escape, you could have found a way to force them to kill you. You could have killed yourself if that didn't work." The words hung in the air, an unspoken question that demanded an explanation. "Shatter that porcelain sink, use it to slash your wrists, and bleed out here on the floor. But you didn't," August pressed, the weight of her question heavy with emotion. "Why didn't you?"
Tears welled up in Dawn's eyes as she shook her head, wounded by August's reaction to her desperate plan. "That's your solution? I had a plan," she confessed, her voice choked with emotion. "If I could get out, I would make a wish to a vengeance demon. The wish, the way I would work it, would send me back in time, and then I would change the way it went."
In an instant, the air between them crackled with tension as August moved with supernatural speed. Dawn barely had time to react as a savage backhand struck her cheek with brutal force. The pain throbbed, but she rolled with the blow, adrenaline surging through her veins as she prepared herself for further attacks that didn't come. Instead, August stood there, her face flushed with anger, the storm in her eyes contrasting with the tears streaming down her face.
"How can you be so arrogant?" August's voice quivered with a mix of fury and sorrow. A lock of her hair fell across her eyes, but she made no attempt to move it away. "You're a Slayer, not the Slayer. You're not what's important. The only thing that matters is that there be someone out there to fight them." Her words cut deep, exposing the raw nerve of Dawn's self-importance. "If you could get out, you would make a wish to a vengeance demon. The wish the way you would work it would send you back in time, and then you would change the way it went. That's what you said. How do you even know there is any vengeance demons left?" she questioned, her doubts and uncertainties revealing the deep uncertainty that plagued her.
Dawn took a steadying breath, her eyes locking with August's, their shared circumstances forging a bond between them. "No. Listen," she implored, her voice gaining strength and conviction. "Now that we're both in here, we'll find a way. Before they figure out what it takes to contain us both."
August's bitter laughter carried the weight of Dawn's confinement, tears mingling with her emotions. "You've been here five years! We can't get out, Dawn," she stated, her voice heavy with the resignation of their seemingly inescapable fate. "The only way for there to be a new Slayer out there fighting the darkness is for one of us to die. If you're not willing to do what has to be done, I will."
Their footsteps on the cold stone floor created a hauntingly quiet shuffle, the sound echoing like a mournful whisper. The two Slayers continued to circle each other, their movements tense and deliberate. In this dark, confined space, their shared destiny clashed, their lives entwined in a tragic dance.
"I won't kill you, August. But I'm not going to let you kill me, either," Dawn declared firmly, the resolve in her voice laced with compassion.
August's face contorted with a mixture of anger and anguish, her tears flowing freely, revealing the vulnerability beneath the facade of a fierce Slayer. "Damn you!" she cried out, her words a raw outcry of pain and grief. "Do you think I want this? I've got people I love out there. Dying every day, trying to keep the vampires from spreading. Someone's got to protect them." Her plea was a desperate plea, burdened by the weight of her responsibility as a Slayer.
"Then help me," Dawn implored, her voice gentle yet determined. "If we can find a way, I can make my wish—"
But before she could finish, a sudden crack of emotion seemed to strike August. She broke down, sinking to her knees, the facade of a seasoned warrior crumbling to reveal a heartbroken teenager burdened by the weight of the world. "I just can't lose them," she sobbed, the tears falling like raindrops on the cold stone floor.
Dawn's heart ached, and she knelt beside her fellow Slayer, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. August—"
August's frustration and anger boiled over, snapping at Dawn with a ferocious, spinning kick aimed directly at her head. The intensity of the moment hung heavy in the air as they clashed in a desperate battle for survival.
In an instant, Dawn's instincts kicked in, fueled by the power of the Key within her. She summoned the energy, opening a portal behind her. She couldn't escape the cell, but she could use the portal to maneuver within its confines. With agility born of years of confinement, she stepped through the portal, reappearing on the other side of the chamber, just out of August's reach.
The suddenness of the portal caught August off guard, and she crashed into the unforgiving wall with full force. But even as Dawn closed in, the younger Slayer countered with a swift move, sweeping Dawn's legs out from under her. Dawn reacted instinctively, creating another portal below her and falling into it. She reappeared several feet away on the opposite side of the room, her breaths ragged as she rose to her feet, her bed a mere breath away.
But August was relentless, the younger Slayer's foot snapped out in a side kick aimed at Dawn's chest. Dawn couldn't evade it, and the impact was brutal. She felt something crack within her chest, a searing pain that left her breathless. Colliding with the plastic shelving holding her clothes, it splintered and shattered beneath her weight.
Gasping for air, Dawn fought through the pain, the shattered shelves and clothes strewn around her like a battlefield. The room felt like it was closing in on her, the walls squeezing tighter with each passing second. The intensity of their struggle was palpable, the emotions coursing through their bodies igniting the clash of wills in this grim chamber of confinement.
August's face bore the marks of her emotional turmoil—her mouth set in a grim line, her eyes red from both fallen and unfallen tears. The weight of their shared fate hung heavy on her shoulders as she went for a simple kick, her youth and inexperience evident in her movements. Dawn, wise in her captivity, had anticipated this reaction, using her chest injury to make herself appear vulnerable, exploiting August's naivety.
With an open hand, Dawn intercepted the kick, halting it mid-swing, and pushed August backward. Braced against the wall, Dawn summoned the strength of a Slayer to knock the younger girl off her feet, leaving her flailing and defenseless. The gravity of their struggle, both physical and emotional, underscored the tragic predicament they found themselves in.
"We can't beat each other," Dawn spoke with a mix of exhaustion and desperation. "We're evenly matched as Slayers. While I can't use the Key to escape the room, I can use it to continuously avoid you. We could be at this for the rest of our lives." Her eyes pleaded with August, a flicker of hope mingling with the heavy burden she carried.
August, still crouched on her hands and knees, refused to meet Dawn's gaze. Her vulnerability was laid bare, her resolve wavering under the weight of their tragic circumstances. "No. It shouldn't," she conceded, her voice carrying the echoes of unfulfilled dreams and shattered hopes. "But it is."
In a surge of determination, August shot up from the floor, but Dawn was ready. She opened a portal beneath the younger Slayer, who fell into it. Dawn had crafted the portal as a continuous loop, ensuring that August would endlessly fall, a fate that mirrored the relentless struggle they were trapped in.
Dawn's plea was heartfelt, her voice tinged with both sorrow and compassion. "Stop this," she urged, her heart heavy with the weight of their conflict. "If I have to, I'll leave you free-falling forever, but I don't want to have to do that." The choice hung in the air like an unspoken plea for understanding and a desperate hope for a resolution to their shared ordeal.
August's vow pierced through the charged air like a bitter gust of wind. "I won't stop," she declared with a fierce determination, her voice trembling with a potent mix of desperation and resolve. "One of us is going to die."
As Dawn attempted to trap her in a continuous free fall, August clung to the nearby table, halting her descent. With a determined rush, she charged at Dawn, pushing her limits, fueled by desperation and fury. Dawn's heart pounded in her chest, her adrenaline surging as she vaulted into the air, executing a somersault to evade August's attack. She landed on both feet, her every movement a dance between life and death.
But in the chaos of their struggle, August's evasion was a fraction too slow. Time seemed to slow down as Dawn's kick connected with devastating precision, striking the younger Slayer at the vulnerable juncture where her jaw met her neck. The sound of a wet snap filled the air as August's spinal column broke, her body collapsing in a heap across the unforgiving stone floor.
Dawn's heart sank as she stood there, frozen in shock and disbelief. The consequences of their relentless conflict had taken a deadly turn, and her opponent now lay motionless, life extinguished in an instant. The weight of her grief and anger surged through her, hot tears blurring her vision as she shouted in anguish, "Dammit, no! No! No!"
Her voice cracked with heartache as she whispered to herself, "I'm sorry, Buffy," the weight of her sister's legacy and her own failure pressing heavily upon her shoulders.
But alongside her grief, a new, fierce emotion ignited within Dawn—a hatred that burned with a razor-sharp intensity, unlike anything she had felt in years. The anger seethed within her, driven by the senselessness of their conflict and the tragic loss that had befallen them both.
The memories of loss and imprisonment bore down on Dawn like a crushing weight. The Bringers and Turok-Han had snatched away those she loved the most, leaving her trapped in this bleak cell. Yet, throughout it all, her spirit had remained resilient, her hope and faith like an unyielding flame in the darkness. Until now.
A surge of raw emotion coursed through her veins, making her heart pound in her chest as if trying to break free. Teeth gritted together, she steadied herself, her body trembling with a mix of rage and grief. Dawn dragged August's lifeless body near the front of the cell, positioning it only inches from the door, as if daring it to open.
In the space where August's corpse had lain, Dawn dropped to her knees, her breath shaky as she prepared herself for what she was about to do. Her hand rose to her nose, and she delivered a sharp, painful strike with her open palm. A cry of anguish escaped her lips, mingling with the weight of her emotional turmoil.
Summoning her resolve, she leaned forward, letting her blood flow onto the cold, unforgiving floor. Each drop was a testament to her determination, a symbol of defiance against the darkness that had engulfed her life. With each passing second, she felt her wound begin to heal, the pain subsiding as her Slayer abilities mended her broken flesh.
But she wasn't finished yet. In an act of desperation and purpose, she rolled up the back of her shirt, her fingers tracing the puncture wound that had pierced her side. The broken plastic from the shattered shelving had left its mark, a painful reminder of her vulnerability.
Determined to keep fighting, Dawn used her fingernail to dig into the wound, pushing past the pain to make it deeper.
The pain was excruciating, but Dawn's resolve remained unyielding. Her blood stained the floor once more, a testament to her relentless determination to alter not just her family's and friends' fates but also August's. It was a sacrifice fueled by the desire to rewrite their tragic destinies, to break free from the chains that bound her in this nightmarish cell.
Her hand released the makeshift plastic dagger, its significance as a tool of defiance and hope still reverberating within her. With a solemn determination, she lowered herself to the floor, lying on her side. The puddle of her blood spread around her, her right cheek already sticky from touching its edges. But even as she bled, it was not her own lifeblood that drove her now—it was the fierce yearning to change the course of their intertwined destinies.
As the scent of blood seeped beneath the steel door, the Bringers outside in the corridor sensed the change in the air. Five of them stood guard, their sinister presence casting a shadow over the dire situation within the cell.
The Bringer closest to the door took his time, fumbling with the locks as anticipation hung in the air. His hands trembled as he disengaged the three main bolts, every creaking sound accentuating the tension that filled the room. With a sudden burst of strength, he shoved the heavy steel door open, his senses on high alert, expecting an attack.
But the door swung only a few inches before hitting an obstruction, its momentum halted by an unseen force. The dull thump resonated through the cell, its echoes carrying a foreboding sense of fate and purpose. Inside, Dawn lay amidst the pool of her blood, her resolve unwavering even as the world outside stood poised on the precipice of change.
The Bringer took a hesitant half-step back, his heart pounding in his chest as he prepared for a potential attack. But as the moments passed, nothing happened. The silence was heavy, and he found himself pushing at the door again, determination mixed with uncertainty. With a determined effort, the obstruction slid away, and the door opened slowly.
His eyes darted around the room, settling on the motionless form of the teenage Slayer lying on the floor. Confusion and concern etched across his face as he took in the scene before him. The door was only partially open, and Dawn was nowhere in sight. His senses heightened, he extended his arm through the gap, clutching a stun-prod tightly, ready for any sign of danger.
Without hesitation, the Bringer tagged the downed Slayer with the prod, releasing a surge of electricity that crackled through her body. But there were no muscle spasms, no signs of life. The girl lay still, her body battered and bruised from what seemed like an intense struggle.
The weight of the situation pressed heavily on the Bringer's mind. One Slayer was dead, but what of the other? His comrades joined him, pushing the door open with all the strength they could muster. The collision with the lifeless form on the floor brought an unsettling crunch, but it also revealed another harrowing sight.
With the door now open wider, the Bringer caught sight of Dawn lying amidst a pool of her own blood, her body broken and battered. The realization struck him like a hammer, a painful surge of emotions welling up within him. Her throat had been slit, her eyes wide and cold, staring back at him with an eerie emptiness.
He couldn't help but recall the haunting promise of death that had emanated from Dawn's eyes before, but now they were devoid of any emotion. Like tarnished marbles, they held nothing, reflecting a void that echoed the tragedy of their shared fate.
A surge of adrenaline fueled Dawn's actions as the Bringer's boot thudded into her flesh, causing her pain but also igniting a fierce determination within her. She couldn't let the agony slow her down. Closing herself around his leg like a vice, she crawled halfway up, her grip unyielding. With a swift, brutal motion, she snapped his knee, causing him to collapse to the floor in agony.
As the Bringer crumpled, the stun-prod slipped from his grasp, and Dawn wasted no time. Rising to her feet, she loomed over him, her eyes cold and unyielding. Her emotions roiled within, a mix of vengeance and survival driving her actions.
Turning her attention to the other Bringers, she offered a chilling smile—a defiance that echoed her indomitable spirit. The grief, anger, and loss she had endured had given her a newfound strength, and she unleashed it with the fury of a true Slayer. In the blink of an eye, she attacked with the speed and precision only a seasoned warrior possessed.
One Bringer was caught by the stun-prod, his body convulsing with electricity before Dawn's swift hand took his head clean off. Another two were disarmed with ease, their weapons rendered useless before she broke them with a calculated, swift strike. The room filled with the cacophony of chaos and brutality, and in that moment, Dawn's emotions were channeled into a maelstrom of power, her blows swift and merciless.
She fought with the weight of her losses, the burden of her captivity, and the rage of injustice fueling her every movement. Each strike was a testament to the strength she had gained over her years of confinement—a strength that had not just honed her body, but also fortified her mind and spirit.
In this dance of vengeance and survival, Dawn found a measure of release—a catharsis amid the chaos. The room became a battlefield, and in the intensity of the moment, she embraced the raw power of her Slayer heritage, the emotions that had threatened to consume her now harnessed into a force for justice and redemption.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
As Dawn rushed down the dimly lit corridor, a sense of exhilaration surged through her veins like a torrent of emotion. The sight of the red, glowing exit sign felt almost surreal, a beacon of hope in this nightmarish labyrinth. The knowledge that this place had once been inhabited by humans only heightened the contrast between the past and her present freedom, filling her with a giddy sense of liberation.
Pushing through the final door at the end of the hall, she barely managed to catch it before it clanged off the wall. In that brief moment of stillness, she listened intently, making sure no danger lurked nearby before she ascended a set of stairs. Her hands gripped the oak railing as she stopped midway, her breaths coming quick and shallow with adrenaline.
Without hesitation, she lashed out with a snap kick, shattering the sturdy railing like brittle glass. The broken halves dangled precariously, and she snapped off a piece to wield as a makeshift weapon—a fifteen-inch length of splintered oak that could serve her well against any Turok-Han she might encounter.
Pressing on, she reached a door at the top of the stairs, her heart pounding as it began to open. Reacting instantly, she pivoted and launched a fierce kick at the Bringer who emerged into the stairwell. The force of her blow sent him stumbling backward, but she wasted no time and followed him into the corridor beyond.
Her face remained expressionless, her emotions buried beneath the determination that had driven her to this point. She swiftly disarmed the Bringer, snatching his knife from his belt, and used it to bring him down. He crumpled to the floor, the impact echoing with the weight of her vengeance.
As the sound of approaching footsteps reached her ears, Dawn's instincts kicked in, and she raced down the hallway, seeking refuge from her pursuers. The structure surrounding her appeared to have once been filled with bustling offices, the glass windows offering a glimpse of a world that had long since vanished. But now, the halls were devoid of life, a stark reminder of the bleak reality she faced.
With every beat of her heart, Dawn felt the adrenaline surge through her veins, propelling her forward like a force of nature. The shouts of the pursuing Bringers echoed behind her, but she was unyielding in her determination to break free and taste the sweet air of freedom. The tantalizing scent of the outdoors wafted closer, fueling her resolve like a siren's call.
But as she rounded the corner, her excitement gave way to a moment of trepidation. Before her lay a wide, open lobby, its glass walls and doors painted black, like a void waiting to swallow her whole. Her heart sank, but she wouldn't let it deter her. The promise of the outside world lay just beyond those glass barriers, and she would let nothing stop her now.
Two towering Turok-Han stood like sentinels, blocking her path to the door, their ominous presence an unwavering obstacle. Her grim determination only grew stronger. The tension hung thick in the air as she spoke with an unwavering resolve, "You can get away from the door, or you can be the door."
In response, the Turok-Han prepared to face her, their chilling eyes locked on her with menacing intent. The shouts of her pursuers filled the space behind her, a reminder that she had no time to waste. Her heart pounded in her chest as she rushed headlong towards the door sentries, never breaking her stride.
The Turok-Han lunged at her in unison, but Dawn was ready. With a deftness honed through years of captivity and determination, she opened a portal in the blink of an eye. The monstrous beings fell through the rippling void, tumbling into the Bringers behind her with a thunderous crash, leaving a wake of chaos and confusion in their wake.
As Dawn stepped out into the warm embrace of the sunshine, her senses were overwhelmed with the beauty of the Southern California day. The gentle crunch of shattered glass beneath her sneakers seemed like a melody, a symphony that sang of her newfound freedom. For so long, she had been confined to darkness, and now, basking in the golden rays, she savored every moment of it.
Her heart swelled with a mix of emotions as she looked around at the familiar landscape, a place she had once taken for granted but now saw with fresh eyes. This glorious day embodied the essence of California—a reminder of the carefree days she had known before her world was shattered. Today, however, she reveled in the beauty of it all, cherishing the simple joys that had once seemed insignificant.
The songs of birds echoed through the air, a chorus celebrating her liberation. A lone sparrow glided gracefully across the street, a symbol of freedom in flight. The breeze carried fragrant scents that embraced her like a warm hug, filling her senses with the sweetness of life, akin to the promises of springtime.
Overwhelmed by the realization of her freedom, she couldn't quite place the season, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was this moment of unfettered joy, a celebration of the life she had fought so hard to reclaim.
Eager to embrace her newfound freedom fully, Dawn opened a portal straight to Willow, the one person she trusted above all else. With a rush of excitement, she poured out the events that had transpired, her voice trembling with emotion as she described her harrowing escape and the plan they now needed to enact.
Working together, they carefully crafted the wording of the wish, every word chosen with care and hope. As they called upon D'Hoffryn, the ancient demon of vengeance, Dawn's heart beat with anticipation and trepidation. This was her chance to change the course of history, to rewrite the painful past, and forge a new path for herself and those she cared about.