(no subject)
She’s abandoned the Honda back in Baker, the engine shot from the beating it took by some werewolves when she tried passing through Barstow. She’s pretty surprised it made it as far as it did anyways, most cars didn’t seem to work, after the whole end of the world thing. Not a whole lot of things did, Dawn thinks miserably, hand brushing against the useless radio stuck in her right pocket.
Ash still covers Dawn’s face as she makes her way across the state line. Rifle slung over one shoulder and her UC Stanford bag over the other, filled with canned apricots and bullets and painkillers. She tows the line of broken rocks that used to be Highway 15 and glances at the red sky in the background. She hears it a creaking to the left and looks just in time to see the “Welcome To” sign of Nevada keel over backwards. It should be the post-ironic type of funny, but really, it’s just depressing.
Dawn spends the first night after the attacks in a bus top on the outskirts of Henderson. The town’s over run with creatures but she’s seriously considering the alternative to this because there’s a stale puddle on the bench that’s probably pee and outside the night seems to be moving, shifting. She holds the rifle firmly in her sweaty hands and doesn’t move. After a while the shadows continue across the desert and the shapes fade into midnight. Dawn releases the breath she was holding and tucks her knees under her chin and doesn’t sleep.
**
Dawn dreams of bodies stacked in the street and fire pouring from the cracks in the earth. It takes a while before she remembers it’s a memory. She wakes to find the scarlet sunlight streaming through the dirty window and no one around, for miles and miles and miles.
**
Even though her bag is lighter and the number of cans she has are slowly trickling away, Dawn gives Las Vegas a wide berth. She can hear the screams from the distance. She’ll take her chances in the desert. Along the horizon, the sun is pressed up against black clouds. With every step she feels the soles of her shoes giving way and tries not to cry as she looks at the emptiness in front of her.
She heads north, parallel with the abandoned interstate, hands tucked in the front pocket of her hoodie. She hasn’t had a shower in…well it’s been a while, and her hair hangs lank and greasy around her dirty face. She hikes the gun higher up on her shoulder and determinedly walks onwards.
**
It’s been seven days now and she can’t wait anymore. She’s all out of peaches and basically, feels the grossest she’s ever felt. She slowly steps onto the quiet street, cracked asphalt crunching under her feet. She can see dried blood running from an abandoned car to a nearby sewer grate and the only sound around her is the rustle of dried up brush.
Suddenly, she hears the sound of gunfire and ducks down just in time to see a black muscle car come swerving around the corner, with three vampires chasing at its dust. Dawn throws herself behind a rusted newspaper kiosk as a flurry of bullets pelts the wall where she was standing. She kneels on the dirty pavement and pulls her stake out of the strap on her thigh.
The car spins around comes to a screeching stop. A figure in a leather jacket comes barreling out of the driver’s seat and rolls to its feet. She can’t really see from here but it looks like a man with a…shotgun?
Dawn lets a loud sigh and starts crawling closer on hands and knees. People just can never appreciate a good crossbow, really. Right then he shoots at the closest vampire, taking off its entire head. It falls back in a cloud of grey dust.
Well. That’s that, Dawn thinks arching her eyebrows in surprise.
He spins around whipping a knife out of his belt as one of the vampires jump at him. It cuts deep into its arm as he ducks past, and then he twists, tosses his knife into the other vampire, the knife hitting it squarely in the chest. It stumbles back from the impact.
He looks as if he expects something more to happen, as the vampire slowly draws out the knife. They circle around him.
Dawn jumps up and runs at the vampire with its back to her. She pulls the stake back and thrusts forward, with the word power beating through her head. It sinks in smoothly as the vampire spins around and backhands her in the face. Which for a fact, is not awesome.
The man has already finished off the other and plunges and wooden plank through the vampire’s back. It evaporates to leave only the man standing there, dusting off his jacket.
“You alright”, he asks in a deep, grating voice, extending his hand down.
Dawn’s butt hurts not half as much as her face, and she landed in something gooey and has been trudging through a freaking desert for the past week and she wants to go to sleep for a long time.
“Fine,” she mumbles, taking his hand. He has a calloused hand, with a tough grip. It’s the kind of hand she’s sure you get not universities, but constantly working. Also, he’s obnoxiously pretty, she notices. Even covered in vamp dust, and blood smeared on his cheek she can see his the way his mouth is curved. Which are both, respectably hot.
He’s looking around, checking up and down the block they’re standing on. Dawn glances up at the sky. It seems like it should be night about now. The moon and sun have been in constant flux for the past week, sometimes fading out of the horizon leaving the world in a shadowy stupor. Other times they would flash great red spasms that shook the earth at its roots. So right now, Dawn’s not exactly sure about the time. She left her watch on her bedside table, next to the picture of her mom and Buffy, when she went out for coffee before her morning classes. Dawn feels an ache, deep in her chest.
They’re both standing there silently, with the humid wind coasting between them. It’s really odd to be around someone, after all this time. Extremely weird, and Dawn isn’t sure what to say to this guy.
“I like your car,” Dawn say experimentally, voice catching on the unused places in her throat. “The blackness is very nifty.”
He grins quickly and glances over his shoulder, checking the shadows that are creeping closer.
“Dean Winchester”, he says, sticking out his hand.
“Dawn Summers”, she replies, and for a second it all feels so utterly normal that she quivers.
"We should go", he says moving away from her. Dawn remembers lectures about never getting into a stranger's car. She shields her eyes from the sun as she climbs into the passenger seat. The low rumble of the engine takes them out of the town, speeding east.
Ash still covers Dawn’s face as she makes her way across the state line. Rifle slung over one shoulder and her UC Stanford bag over the other, filled with canned apricots and bullets and painkillers. She tows the line of broken rocks that used to be Highway 15 and glances at the red sky in the background. She hears it a creaking to the left and looks just in time to see the “Welcome To” sign of Nevada keel over backwards. It should be the post-ironic type of funny, but really, it’s just depressing.
Dawn spends the first night after the attacks in a bus top on the outskirts of Henderson. The town’s over run with creatures but she’s seriously considering the alternative to this because there’s a stale puddle on the bench that’s probably pee and outside the night seems to be moving, shifting. She holds the rifle firmly in her sweaty hands and doesn’t move. After a while the shadows continue across the desert and the shapes fade into midnight. Dawn releases the breath she was holding and tucks her knees under her chin and doesn’t sleep.
**
Dawn dreams of bodies stacked in the street and fire pouring from the cracks in the earth. It takes a while before she remembers it’s a memory. She wakes to find the scarlet sunlight streaming through the dirty window and no one around, for miles and miles and miles.
**
Even though her bag is lighter and the number of cans she has are slowly trickling away, Dawn gives Las Vegas a wide berth. She can hear the screams from the distance. She’ll take her chances in the desert. Along the horizon, the sun is pressed up against black clouds. With every step she feels the soles of her shoes giving way and tries not to cry as she looks at the emptiness in front of her.
She heads north, parallel with the abandoned interstate, hands tucked in the front pocket of her hoodie. She hasn’t had a shower in…well it’s been a while, and her hair hangs lank and greasy around her dirty face. She hikes the gun higher up on her shoulder and determinedly walks onwards.
**
It’s been seven days now and she can’t wait anymore. She’s all out of peaches and basically, feels the grossest she’s ever felt. She slowly steps onto the quiet street, cracked asphalt crunching under her feet. She can see dried blood running from an abandoned car to a nearby sewer grate and the only sound around her is the rustle of dried up brush.
Suddenly, she hears the sound of gunfire and ducks down just in time to see a black muscle car come swerving around the corner, with three vampires chasing at its dust. Dawn throws herself behind a rusted newspaper kiosk as a flurry of bullets pelts the wall where she was standing. She kneels on the dirty pavement and pulls her stake out of the strap on her thigh.
The car spins around comes to a screeching stop. A figure in a leather jacket comes barreling out of the driver’s seat and rolls to its feet. She can’t really see from here but it looks like a man with a…shotgun?
Dawn lets a loud sigh and starts crawling closer on hands and knees. People just can never appreciate a good crossbow, really. Right then he shoots at the closest vampire, taking off its entire head. It falls back in a cloud of grey dust.
Well. That’s that, Dawn thinks arching her eyebrows in surprise.
He spins around whipping a knife out of his belt as one of the vampires jump at him. It cuts deep into its arm as he ducks past, and then he twists, tosses his knife into the other vampire, the knife hitting it squarely in the chest. It stumbles back from the impact.
He looks as if he expects something more to happen, as the vampire slowly draws out the knife. They circle around him.
Dawn jumps up and runs at the vampire with its back to her. She pulls the stake back and thrusts forward, with the word power beating through her head. It sinks in smoothly as the vampire spins around and backhands her in the face. Which for a fact, is not awesome.
The man has already finished off the other and plunges and wooden plank through the vampire’s back. It evaporates to leave only the man standing there, dusting off his jacket.
“You alright”, he asks in a deep, grating voice, extending his hand down.
Dawn’s butt hurts not half as much as her face, and she landed in something gooey and has been trudging through a freaking desert for the past week and she wants to go to sleep for a long time.
“Fine,” she mumbles, taking his hand. He has a calloused hand, with a tough grip. It’s the kind of hand she’s sure you get not universities, but constantly working. Also, he’s obnoxiously pretty, she notices. Even covered in vamp dust, and blood smeared on his cheek she can see his the way his mouth is curved. Which are both, respectably hot.
He’s looking around, checking up and down the block they’re standing on. Dawn glances up at the sky. It seems like it should be night about now. The moon and sun have been in constant flux for the past week, sometimes fading out of the horizon leaving the world in a shadowy stupor. Other times they would flash great red spasms that shook the earth at its roots. So right now, Dawn’s not exactly sure about the time. She left her watch on her bedside table, next to the picture of her mom and Buffy, when she went out for coffee before her morning classes. Dawn feels an ache, deep in her chest.
They’re both standing there silently, with the humid wind coasting between them. It’s really odd to be around someone, after all this time. Extremely weird, and Dawn isn’t sure what to say to this guy.
“I like your car,” Dawn say experimentally, voice catching on the unused places in her throat. “The blackness is very nifty.”
He grins quickly and glances over his shoulder, checking the shadows that are creeping closer.
“Dean Winchester”, he says, sticking out his hand.
“Dawn Summers”, she replies, and for a second it all feels so utterly normal that she quivers.
"We should go", he says moving away from her. Dawn remembers lectures about never getting into a stranger's car. She shields her eyes from the sun as she climbs into the passenger seat. The low rumble of the engine takes them out of the town, speeding east.