Holiday Request Ficlet #7: On the Day of Your Resurrection: Number Five
Title: On the Day of Your Resurrection: Number Five
Author: viciouswishes
For: a2zmom
Fandom: Buffyverse
Pairing: Dawn and Gunn
Setting: future fic
Rating: G
Words: 384
Request: Gunn, Dawn, ribbon.
Summary: For fanfic100 029 birth, Dawn dies...again.
"I died again?" Dawn asks. She asks this about a thousand times when she comes back to life. She always comes back as a 13-year-old just as she was when the monks created her.
Snow's falling faster around them, and Gunn takes off his big puffy coat to wrap it around her. She looks even younger. At least this time, she appears to have some memories. "Yes," he says. "Do you remember anything?"
"Just flashes," Dawn answers. "A name. Buffy."
"Your sister. She's dead."
"Oh." Dawn looks at the ground. She looks sad like she remembers the apocalypses, the funerals, the missed birthday parties, vampires. "How'd I die?"
"Vampire snapped your neck." Gunn's glad they didn't try to turn her. He has no idea what kind of fucked up shit that would cause.
"And who are you?"
The snow's starting to stick. Gunn can see it clinging to Dawn's eyelashes. "Charles Gunn." He motions toward the diner across the street. "We should get some food." He glances over at the camera in the corner. What he likes best about the diner is that it's not full of surveillance equipment, like the alleyways, and he still doesn't know just who will decide that they need the Key for some evil plan.
Plus, the diner's warm, and it has the best pie Gunn's had since his grandma's. He orders peach for Dawn and strawberry apple for himself. He tells her the basics: they live in Toronto, they fight demons, they hang out Slayers, and that she's died and resurrected five times. Of course,
"How many lives do you think I have?"
"Maybe nine like a cat," Gunn says. He takes a picture out of his wallet. It's of her four Christmases ago. She was 17 or 18. Gunn can't remember; he's getting too old for this shit. So old that he almost wishes for her resurrection powers. To be 40 years younger...
Dawn's emptying her pockets onto the counter -- tissues, lipstick, a stake. The tiny earpiece of her phone's crushed, but her data cards are all there. Gunn's going to have to find her new ones with her new age on them. But at least he'll have a start.
"This was you," Gunn says.
"Me." Dawn cradles the picture in her hands, the picture of the happy young woman with ribbons in her hair.
Author: viciouswishes
For: a2zmom
Fandom: Buffyverse
Pairing: Dawn and Gunn
Setting: future fic
Rating: G
Words: 384
Request: Gunn, Dawn, ribbon.
Summary: For fanfic100 029 birth, Dawn dies...again.
"I died again?" Dawn asks. She asks this about a thousand times when she comes back to life. She always comes back as a 13-year-old just as she was when the monks created her.
Snow's falling faster around them, and Gunn takes off his big puffy coat to wrap it around her. She looks even younger. At least this time, she appears to have some memories. "Yes," he says. "Do you remember anything?"
"Just flashes," Dawn answers. "A name. Buffy."
"Your sister. She's dead."
"Oh." Dawn looks at the ground. She looks sad like she remembers the apocalypses, the funerals, the missed birthday parties, vampires. "How'd I die?"
"Vampire snapped your neck." Gunn's glad they didn't try to turn her. He has no idea what kind of fucked up shit that would cause.
"And who are you?"
The snow's starting to stick. Gunn can see it clinging to Dawn's eyelashes. "Charles Gunn." He motions toward the diner across the street. "We should get some food." He glances over at the camera in the corner. What he likes best about the diner is that it's not full of surveillance equipment, like the alleyways, and he still doesn't know just who will decide that they need the Key for some evil plan.
Plus, the diner's warm, and it has the best pie Gunn's had since his grandma's. He orders peach for Dawn and strawberry apple for himself. He tells her the basics: they live in Toronto, they fight demons, they hang out Slayers, and that she's died and resurrected five times. Of course,
"How many lives do you think I have?"
"Maybe nine like a cat," Gunn says. He takes a picture out of his wallet. It's of her four Christmases ago. She was 17 or 18. Gunn can't remember; he's getting too old for this shit. So old that he almost wishes for her resurrection powers. To be 40 years younger...
Dawn's emptying her pockets onto the counter -- tissues, lipstick, a stake. The tiny earpiece of her phone's crushed, but her data cards are all there. Gunn's going to have to find her new ones with her new age on them. But at least he'll have a start.
"This was you," Gunn says.
"Me." Dawn cradles the picture in her hands, the picture of the happy young woman with ribbons in her hair.