Death-a-thon fic (Dawn) aka- Dusk til Dawn CH 1
This was written as a response to Phendog’s death-a-thon challenge. The challenge was to write Dawn ‘death by choice’. “Someone has to make a choice; I really want this to be Dawn-centric, because I think there's a lot to the character we have yet to see...so, I'd like it to be from her POV, not someone else's...”
Severe angst and character death follow, this chapter is dark by nature. This was written as a standalone; however, the idea was intriguing and I wrote a prologue to fill in the back story and will be continuing this story in a multi-chaptered fic. While there is no pairing in either the prologue or this chapter; the storyline will eventually turn Spuffy.
As a standalone, please note this takes place in an alternate season four, where the monks chose to send the Key to Buffy early and the Initiative knew about the Slayer and planned to get close to her via Riley.
A huge thank you for betaing at the very last minute to Spikeslovebite, you are without a doubt a lifesaver!
The prolouge can be found: here
Awakening
Dawn reached up to rub her eyes, momentarily confused by the glaring white light that seemed to surround her. She could hear someone pacing outside her cell. There was a low drone of electrical equipment. If she listened carefully, she could hear the quiet murmur of people talking.
The strongest sensation was of smell. It seemed antiseptic. It reminded her of a hospital. She couldn’t quite place why she awoke up afraid, but then the memories slammed into her. A new level of terror arose.
If she closed her eyes, she could still see the dark shine of blood. It had been everywhere. So much blood. Slowly, she drew up her knees and began to rock to an endless litany.
‘All my fault. All my fault.”
The memories flashed through her mind. The Knights running their car off the road. The dramatic fight and capture of the general. The bloody appearance of Glory and the ensuing massacre. The utter hopelessness of knowing that she was caught.
As Glory and Ben switched back and forth, each half fighting for dominance, she had hoped for escape. Had prayed that the human that resided in the Hell God would be honorable and let her go.
She had tried to flee during one of the transformations from Glory to Ben. She had run as far as the alley when Ben caught up to her. Terror morphed into joy when she ran into Riley. She would be saved.
Before she could blink, a red dot had appeared in the center of Ben’s forehead. There was a soft ‘pop’ and a whiff of smoke, and then the god/boy was no more. The look on Riley’s face, however, was not that of a comforting savior. It was cruel and mocking.
Then, everything went black.
Drugged
Her eyes fluttered open again. How long had she been here? She had lost count of the amount of times that she been roughly awoken. Prodded. Poked. Each time, she cried. Time seemed endless. There were no clocks, no calendars. Just pain and voices.
Tears formed on her eyelashes. They stung her eyes as she tried to refrain from crying.
“You awake, Little Bit?”
She nodded yes, and then realized she couldn’t be seen. “How long, Spike?”
“Day thirteen, Bit”
A sob escaped from her lips. Thirteen days with no rescue. She might never be free. Buffy would never know that Glory had been stopped, or that she had been kidnapped by the soldiers. She had trusted Riley. They had all trusted Riley, and that trust had been horrible betrayed.
The only comfort she had received was from the tentative friendship formed with the voice that floated from the next cell. Her and Spike. Hostile’s 17 and 18.
She wasn’t sure why they had bonded. She supposed torture and betrayal could do that to a person. Apparently, he had been captured with a girl vamp that had gone to high school with Buffy. Once Harmony knew the soldiers wanted info on the Slayer, she had sold out Spike and Dawn and babbled every detail she had known about Buffy Summers and her Chosen status. It hadn’t saved her in the end. She was dusted in an experiment gone wrong. Or so they said.
Or perhaps it was the fact that no one else would listen. No one else could sympathize. No one else felt the fury of Riley’s fists, his mocking taunts, or his more arcane ‘interrogation techniques’ that left both vampire and key bloody. Their relationship with Buffy made them targets and neither knew if they would survive.
Experiments
Dawn ached. Her whole body throbbed from abuse. There was no damage that had been left undone. Cuts adorned her, burns covered her, and she didn’t know how much more she could take. The pain was overwhelming and there was no escape from it. No solace that she could find.
Spike was planning their escape, determined that he could get both of them out, but she couldn’t hope anymore. There was nothing left. Not since the days had blurred together until not even the blond vampire knew how long they had been missing. Counting the passing of time while unconscious was not the easiest.
There were so many innocents trapped here, so many children, and so many families. Demons were collected at random, not because of their danger, but because of their difference. Granted, there were those who were dangerous, but they should have been killed, not experimented on. Not chipped. Not cut and bled and eviscerated for study.
Consciousness faded once more. Everything was soft and peaceful and black.
Escape
Dawn awoke to being carried. In spite of the pain, the sensation was soothing. She was in someone’s arms. Not strapped down, not being wheeled, but being carried in strong arms, with her pounding head carefully supported. It felt like she was being cared for. She started to cry because it had been so long.
She saw the face of her savior. Spike? How did he manage to get free? What happened? Then she heard the sirens and the increased jostling as the running began. Tears flew free as her eyes closed in relief.
Drifting on a sea of pain. Startled, she looked up. He was talking. He shook. His body trembled from the effort to keep going. To stay ahead of them.
“Can you run, Bit?”
She nodded. Her feet touched the floor and they were running.
Then she fell. Spike stopped to help her. Soldiers. Soldiers everywhere. Spike screaming in pain, but fighting. Fists flying, screaming, fighting. She can feel his pain.
Dawn caught his eye and softly, so softly that none could hear but the vampire, she whispered, “Spike. Run. Run, find Buffy. Get help. Come back for me when you can, but get away. We need Buffy.”
He shook his head in furious denial. More soldiers arrive. His enraged snarls rip through the darkness. Blood poured from his nose as the chip fired endlessly.
She pleaded once more. Softly. Quietly.
“Please.”
After another blow to his face, she saw him falter. His eyes. Such pretty blue eyes. They
promise rescue as he turned to flee. He ran faster than the soldiers, a blur of desperation, and then he is gone.
Her last thought was of freedom. She lay there. Broken. Bleeding. Cold steel nudged her forehead. Her poor, tortured little body jerked in reaction, and then there was no more.
Riley holstered his weapon and headed back to the base. He had made his choice. The Key could never be allowed to escape.
Or be rescued.
Severe angst and character death follow, this chapter is dark by nature. This was written as a standalone; however, the idea was intriguing and I wrote a prologue to fill in the back story and will be continuing this story in a multi-chaptered fic. While there is no pairing in either the prologue or this chapter; the storyline will eventually turn Spuffy.
As a standalone, please note this takes place in an alternate season four, where the monks chose to send the Key to Buffy early and the Initiative knew about the Slayer and planned to get close to her via Riley.
A huge thank you for betaing at the very last minute to Spikeslovebite, you are without a doubt a lifesaver!
The prolouge can be found: here
Awakening
Dawn reached up to rub her eyes, momentarily confused by the glaring white light that seemed to surround her. She could hear someone pacing outside her cell. There was a low drone of electrical equipment. If she listened carefully, she could hear the quiet murmur of people talking.
The strongest sensation was of smell. It seemed antiseptic. It reminded her of a hospital. She couldn’t quite place why she awoke up afraid, but then the memories slammed into her. A new level of terror arose.
If she closed her eyes, she could still see the dark shine of blood. It had been everywhere. So much blood. Slowly, she drew up her knees and began to rock to an endless litany.
‘All my fault. All my fault.”
The memories flashed through her mind. The Knights running their car off the road. The dramatic fight and capture of the general. The bloody appearance of Glory and the ensuing massacre. The utter hopelessness of knowing that she was caught.
As Glory and Ben switched back and forth, each half fighting for dominance, she had hoped for escape. Had prayed that the human that resided in the Hell God would be honorable and let her go.
She had tried to flee during one of the transformations from Glory to Ben. She had run as far as the alley when Ben caught up to her. Terror morphed into joy when she ran into Riley. She would be saved.
Before she could blink, a red dot had appeared in the center of Ben’s forehead. There was a soft ‘pop’ and a whiff of smoke, and then the god/boy was no more. The look on Riley’s face, however, was not that of a comforting savior. It was cruel and mocking.
Then, everything went black.
Drugged
Her eyes fluttered open again. How long had she been here? She had lost count of the amount of times that she been roughly awoken. Prodded. Poked. Each time, she cried. Time seemed endless. There were no clocks, no calendars. Just pain and voices.
Tears formed on her eyelashes. They stung her eyes as she tried to refrain from crying.
“You awake, Little Bit?”
She nodded yes, and then realized she couldn’t be seen. “How long, Spike?”
“Day thirteen, Bit”
A sob escaped from her lips. Thirteen days with no rescue. She might never be free. Buffy would never know that Glory had been stopped, or that she had been kidnapped by the soldiers. She had trusted Riley. They had all trusted Riley, and that trust had been horrible betrayed.
The only comfort she had received was from the tentative friendship formed with the voice that floated from the next cell. Her and Spike. Hostile’s 17 and 18.
She wasn’t sure why they had bonded. She supposed torture and betrayal could do that to a person. Apparently, he had been captured with a girl vamp that had gone to high school with Buffy. Once Harmony knew the soldiers wanted info on the Slayer, she had sold out Spike and Dawn and babbled every detail she had known about Buffy Summers and her Chosen status. It hadn’t saved her in the end. She was dusted in an experiment gone wrong. Or so they said.
Or perhaps it was the fact that no one else would listen. No one else could sympathize. No one else felt the fury of Riley’s fists, his mocking taunts, or his more arcane ‘interrogation techniques’ that left both vampire and key bloody. Their relationship with Buffy made them targets and neither knew if they would survive.
Experiments
Dawn ached. Her whole body throbbed from abuse. There was no damage that had been left undone. Cuts adorned her, burns covered her, and she didn’t know how much more she could take. The pain was overwhelming and there was no escape from it. No solace that she could find.
Spike was planning their escape, determined that he could get both of them out, but she couldn’t hope anymore. There was nothing left. Not since the days had blurred together until not even the blond vampire knew how long they had been missing. Counting the passing of time while unconscious was not the easiest.
There were so many innocents trapped here, so many children, and so many families. Demons were collected at random, not because of their danger, but because of their difference. Granted, there were those who were dangerous, but they should have been killed, not experimented on. Not chipped. Not cut and bled and eviscerated for study.
Consciousness faded once more. Everything was soft and peaceful and black.
Escape
Dawn awoke to being carried. In spite of the pain, the sensation was soothing. She was in someone’s arms. Not strapped down, not being wheeled, but being carried in strong arms, with her pounding head carefully supported. It felt like she was being cared for. She started to cry because it had been so long.
She saw the face of her savior. Spike? How did he manage to get free? What happened? Then she heard the sirens and the increased jostling as the running began. Tears flew free as her eyes closed in relief.
Drifting on a sea of pain. Startled, she looked up. He was talking. He shook. His body trembled from the effort to keep going. To stay ahead of them.
“Can you run, Bit?”
She nodded. Her feet touched the floor and they were running.
Then she fell. Spike stopped to help her. Soldiers. Soldiers everywhere. Spike screaming in pain, but fighting. Fists flying, screaming, fighting. She can feel his pain.
Dawn caught his eye and softly, so softly that none could hear but the vampire, she whispered, “Spike. Run. Run, find Buffy. Get help. Come back for me when you can, but get away. We need Buffy.”
He shook his head in furious denial. More soldiers arrive. His enraged snarls rip through the darkness. Blood poured from his nose as the chip fired endlessly.
She pleaded once more. Softly. Quietly.
“Please.”
After another blow to his face, she saw him falter. His eyes. Such pretty blue eyes. They
promise rescue as he turned to flee. He ran faster than the soldiers, a blur of desperation, and then he is gone.
Her last thought was of freedom. She lay there. Broken. Bleeding. Cold steel nudged her forehead. Her poor, tortured little body jerked in reaction, and then there was no more.
Riley holstered his weapon and headed back to the base. He had made his choice. The Key could never be allowed to escape.
Or be rescued.