BtVS Fic: "The Way of All Flesh" (Tara/Dawn, PG13)
Title: The Way of All Flesh
Pairing: Tara/Dawn
Rating: PG-13 for adult implications, dark tone, mention of death
Length: 345 words
Spoilers: season six
Notes: written for Sweet Drabblethon II for slashmarks, who requested "Tara/Dawn - magic, corruption".
The room smells of ash, scattered with the remnants of dried herbs and spilled perfumes.
It smells like what it is: a mess. The bed hasn’t been made in a geological eon. Furniture is covered in clothes rumpled and half-worn. The floor is marked at certain paces by dirty dishes and books left where they fell, their spines open or even cracked.
Dawn sits on the gray bedroom, the lights dimmed, the curtains drawn.
There is something which hangs in the air, a staleness, which brings to mind a funeral parlor.
“Come back to bed, Dawny.”
The voice lilts through the air; a faint echo, singsong. The strands of hair that stir away from her face could have been moved by the wind.
Dawn hunches her shoulders and bows her head as she tries to draw in on herself.
“You aren’t real,” she grates.
“I’m real enough.” There’s the feel of matter-of-fact fingers on her arms, stroking. “Real enough for you.”
Dawn draws a breath that turns into a shudder and almost a sob. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” she insists. “I did something…you came back wrong.”
“And now whose fault is that?” she’s chided, carelessly. Dawn swallows, shakes her head, vehement.
“The real Tara wouldn’t be like this.” It almost sounds like a recitation, the way Dawn says this. “She was nice. She wasn’t…she wasn’t like you.”
There’s a rustling in the sheets as the comforters are carelessly pushed aside. “You seem to like me well enough.”
Dawn looks up, almost pleading. “I wanted to bring you back for Willow,” she says weakly.
“For Willow?” The laughter is piercingly light. “She seems to have moved in just fine without me. No, Dawny - you brought me back for you.”
Dawn shuts her eyes and hugs herself.
“I missed you, Tara,” she whispers, stricken. “I was lonely, and I-”
“Shhh. It’s okay, baby. I know. But you don’t have to be alone anymore.”
The last light in the room turns itself down even further.
“Now come to bed. Lay down. You need to rest.”
Pairing: Tara/Dawn
Rating: PG-13 for adult implications, dark tone, mention of death
Length: 345 words
Spoilers: season six
Notes: written for Sweet Drabblethon II for slashmarks, who requested "Tara/Dawn - magic, corruption".
The room smells of ash, scattered with the remnants of dried herbs and spilled perfumes.
It smells like what it is: a mess. The bed hasn’t been made in a geological eon. Furniture is covered in clothes rumpled and half-worn. The floor is marked at certain paces by dirty dishes and books left where they fell, their spines open or even cracked.
Dawn sits on the gray bedroom, the lights dimmed, the curtains drawn.
There is something which hangs in the air, a staleness, which brings to mind a funeral parlor.
“Come back to bed, Dawny.”
The voice lilts through the air; a faint echo, singsong. The strands of hair that stir away from her face could have been moved by the wind.
Dawn hunches her shoulders and bows her head as she tries to draw in on herself.
“You aren’t real,” she grates.
“I’m real enough.” There’s the feel of matter-of-fact fingers on her arms, stroking. “Real enough for you.”
Dawn draws a breath that turns into a shudder and almost a sob. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” she insists. “I did something…you came back wrong.”
“And now whose fault is that?” she’s chided, carelessly. Dawn swallows, shakes her head, vehement.
“The real Tara wouldn’t be like this.” It almost sounds like a recitation, the way Dawn says this. “She was nice. She wasn’t…she wasn’t like you.”
There’s a rustling in the sheets as the comforters are carelessly pushed aside. “You seem to like me well enough.”
Dawn looks up, almost pleading. “I wanted to bring you back for Willow,” she says weakly.
“For Willow?” The laughter is piercingly light. “She seems to have moved in just fine without me. No, Dawny - you brought me back for you.”
Dawn shuts her eyes and hugs herself.
“I missed you, Tara,” she whispers, stricken. “I was lonely, and I-”
“Shhh. It’s okay, baby. I know. But you don’t have to be alone anymore.”
The last light in the room turns itself down even further.
“Now come to bed. Lay down. You need to rest.”