Need to Destroy by Amberina

I step out of my skin
You wouldn't know me now
Couldn't you go away?
Shouldn't I?

Dawn didn't come to Wesley out of choice. No, she came to Wesley because she had no other place to go. After she'd killed Buffy (she hadn't meant to, she really hadn't, it just happened and then the blood was everywhere but there's always blood everywhere, because it's always blood, you see) no one was willing to help her. No one could look at her straight. No one could look at her eye-to-eye, and when they did, it was only for a split second, their eyes shining in fear.

Tara said that Dawn glowed (before Buffy, things in Dawn's mental timeline had shifted into Before Buffy, and After Buffy, because Buffy's scream punctuated the end of a time when Dawn wasn't afraid of herself, and this was the night before she was supposed to become an adult, a human adult, and birthdays never went as planned for residents of Sunnydale), shiny green light swirling and swooshing across her skin. Dawn had ran upstairs, and locked her door. She swallowed hard, before finally turning and looking in her mirror. Green, radioactive-looking light shimmered like shooting stars across her skin. Across her skin.

Across her skin. Dawn stripped down, kicking her clothing across the room. She studied the streaks and shimmers and explosions of harsh green light that littered her skin. It seemed to be forming a pattern, something organized in something inherently chaotic. It seemed to be traveling somewhere, attracted to something. Bright green streaked up her leg, down her torso, and finally swirling around the scar - it had been cold that night on the tower, the night the skies opened up and swallowed Buffy's soul whole, it had been cold, the blade had been like ice - and Dawn's skin burned, the scar burned like fire. Almost as if the light was trying to pull the long-healed tissue apart again. It wanted to make her bleed again.

Dawn scratched and clawed at her skin, trying desperately to get the light off of her. But, you see, what Dawn didn't realize that night was that the light was not something attacking her, it was apart of her. To anyone not herself, to anyone that hadn't been affected during the last time the Key was needed, Dawn just looked crazed, lying naked on her bedroom floor, desperately clawing at herself.

She cried as sharp pain wracked her whole body, traveling the same trail the light had before. She screamed as her soul broke in two. She screamed herself into oblivion, where she laid for seven days. During that time, fever dreams shimmered through her psyche, dreams of things that had never really happened, dreams of things she remembered anyway, dreams of things that should have never happened (Buffy should not have jumped from that tower, no that was not how things were supposed to work, that was cheating, you see, and the universe recognized this as what it was, and the universe would not let it be forgiven.)

When Dawn woke up, Buffy was sitting beside her, her legs folded under her. Tears streaked her face. She - or someone, maybe Tara - had draped a sheet over her body. Before Buffy even knew what was happening, before even Dawn knew what was happening, Dawn pulled the sheet up, and wrapped it around Buffy's neck in one smooth motion. She pulled on the sheet with all of her strength and Buffy's head fell to the floor with a sound that now haunted Dawn in moments of silence.

Dawn collapsed on Buffy's body and cried. It was Spike that found her there, found them both. She had never heard a vampire scream before. He was the first person to look at her in complete fear. Spike, Big Bad Spike, was afraid of his Little Bit.

The next few days consisted of quarantine. They didn't know why she did what she did, if maybe something possessed her, but they weren't willing to let her out until they were sure whatever it was, was gone. Oh, how they didn't know. They didn't know that the very same Dawn that was curled up in a ball, crying, was the one that had killed the Slayer. They said the Slayer like it meant something, like it meant anything other than the fact that they were trying to keep Buffy's death impersonal. The Slayer died, you see, not Buffy, oh no they were not willing to say that Dawn killed Buffy.

They didn't trust her, didn't understand. Didn't understand that Buffy was not supposed to have jumped, and Willow was not supposed to bring her back, and that was not really Buffy, not whole Buffy, but a cracked version of Buffy. Her aura was cracked, her soul was cracked. That Buffy should have never existed.

Just like Dawn. Dawn, she should have never survived that night. Fate had a funny way of finding you, like in Final Destination, but scarier, and Dawn was bleeding on the inside. She was dying, and oh boy did she feel it.

But they didn't trust her. They didn't understand. They wouldn't (couldn't) help her. Dawn had to go somewhere else.

Giles brought her food every night. One night, the last night she was there, Dawn smashed a lamp over his head. He fell to the floor with a thump. Dawn felt for his pulse, and satisfied that he was still alive, she made her way downstairs. Dawn was lucky that night - if Dawn had ever been lucky in her life - because Willow and Tara had gone out. Dawn rummaged through a drawer, finding money and, finally, what she had really been looking for - Buffy's address book.

Dawn walked to the bus station, shivering not so much from cold but from pain, and fear. She paid for a ticket to Los Angeles, and then waited, and while she waited, she flipped through Buffy's address book. First entry was Angel - after all this time, hearts still swirled around his name. Dawn couldn't go to Angel.

She started flipping from the back and came across Wesley's name, phone number, and address. Wesley. Dawn remembered Wesley. He had hugged the girl that should not be at the funeral for the girl that should not have died. He had whispered his sympathies. Dawn decided to go to Wesley.

She stood on his doorstep for what seemed like ages before she could muster up enough courage to knock. What if he turned her away? What if he couldn't help her? What if he wouldn't help her? What if . . .

Dawn finally knocked. She always knocked a beat, it couldn't just be knock knock knock, no it had to have a beat to it. Knock knock knock-knock knock. It seemed to be the same beat her heart kept.

Wesley opened the door, a grim look on his face. He looked like he hadn't smiled in a decade. On his face was a wicked five o' clock shadow. He looked really good, and intriguingly dangerous. His eyes were intense as he looked her up and down, making her feel uncomfortable as well as a little excited. And yet there was no recognition in his eyes. None.

"Wes - I, uh . . . " Dawn trailed off as Wesley's eyes lit up.

His eyes lit up with recognition, finally. He knew who she was. "Dawn. You don't look - you've grown up."

"That's what four years will do to you." Dawn frowned as her eyes fell on a scar that ran along his neck, as if his throat had been slit open. "What the hell happened to you over the last four years, Wes?"

Wesley just turned and motioned for her to come in. Dawn's eyes watched his rear end as she followed him in, and she had to remind herself what she came for. How dire, how -

"Wes, I'm dying," Dawn blurted out. Probably not the best way to start.

Wes turned and just stared at her.

She felt as if she was under a spotlight, his gaze burning on her. She shifted her weight to one leg as her fingers nervously played with the sleeve of her shirt. "I'm not supposed to be alive, I don't think. And I think I'm . . . I don't know." She sighed, then pulled up her shirt slightly to reveal her stomach, and the glowing green wound that had been ripped open again. "I can feel it, like I'm being pulled apart from the inside."

Wesley's eyes widened slightly as he approached her slowly, his hand drawn out towards the wound. He touched one finger to it tentatively, and jumped back as the pure energy that radiated from it shocked him.

He swore, rubbing his finger. Dawn would had ask him if he was okay, but she didn't want to waste time.

"What do you know about the Key, about me?"

Wesley, fully recovered, gestured for her to sit on the couch as he went off into another room. When he returned, he held a book. He sat beside her and spread the book open on his coffee table.

"I don't know much, other than what Rupert told me, and what's in this book. I think you already know all of it, though. You were mystical energy, billions of years old, an incredibly powerful entity of sorts used to open the gateways between dimensions. Your energy was funneled into human form and placed in Buffy's protection. But I don't really think this is about your nature so much as your destiny. The monks created you, of course, but they did not create your destiny. That was all the Powers' doing." Wesley cleared his throat as he flipped through the pages, seeming to be searching for something. Upon not finding it, he continued. "Everyone has a destiny, a purpose in life, a time to die, et cetera."

Dawn nodded slowly. "I was supposed to die on the tower. I was supposed to close the portal, not Buffy. That's why I - I killed Buffy. Because she . . . " Dawn trailed off, waiting for him to back away in fear, or at least show a little bit of reaction to her disclosure.

Instead, Wesley simply nodded. "Probably. When did this begin?"

"A little over a week ago. I, uh, I was watching TV with Tara and she said I glowed so I went upstairs to see, and I was glowing. Then there was, like, this intense pain, and the green light started to move to my scar, the one I showed you. And then I kind of passed out for a week. When I woke up, Buffy was there, and I killed her. I didn't mean to, but, I don't know, it was almost like I was possessed or something. I'm not sure." Dawn looked down. "No one trusts me, they think I'll try to kill them. I couldn't tell them . . . they wouldn't listen."

There was a moment of silence as Wesley flipped through the book again.

"Are there any cheating destiny spells?" Dawn asked, masking it as a joke, but secretly hoping maybe there were.

Wesley knit his eyebrows together, seeming in deep thought. "I don't believe there are any that would help in your case. In all honesty, I'm not all-together positive there's anything that could . . . help you."

Dawn leaned back against the couch, and tried not to make her shaking obvious. So she was going to die. You should have died before now, a voice in the back of her head reminded her.

An intense pain shot through her abdomen and she screamed loudly, unable to stop it before it came out. Tears sprung to her eyes as her hand gripped the wound, where the pain was the most intense.

She faintly heard Wesley shouting, but it sounded like he was miles away, so far away. So far . . . away . . .

The pain finally subsided, but Dawn continued crying.

She didn't want to die. She was eighteen - she was too young, too . . . all of her thoughts stopped as Wesley wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, just letting her cry.

After her tears ran dry, she sat up and sniffled. She couldn't help it, it just came out. She was sure she looked horrible, but it didn't matter now. "Wes, please, find a way . . . you have to find a way to save me. Please?"

"Would you like to go lay down?" Wesley asked softly. "You can take my bed, I'll sleep out here."

"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds . . . " Dawn sighed. "Wesley, please, listen to me. You can't let me die, okay? I - you can't."

Wesley stood up and began to walk towards his bedroom.

****

Wesley watched Dawn sleep - a very restless sleep, it looked like. She was tossing and turning all over, thrashing at the covers and some unseen assailant in her dream. Whimpers escaped her lips as the trashing got more violent.

He felt sorry for her, of course, but he wasn't sure what, exactly, she expected from him. He would help her if he could, but he really couldn't see any way to avoid the inevitable.

Wesley sighed and stood up, leaving Dawn to her sleep. He hoped she would be able to sleep a little more peacefully before the night was through.

Just as he was about to make himself a bed on the couch, his front door opened. Lilah stood in the opening of his apartment wearing a grin and a white suit. It was times like these he regretted having a key made.

"Lilah, why don't you just let yourself in?"

Lilah grinned even bigger. He wasn't sure how much longer this could go on. It had been - almost three years. He didn't love her, of course - well, he couldn't admit it to her. It would ruin the games they had become accustomed to. The games of bickering, violence, and sex that . . . really good sex.

"Oh, Wes, come on. I've had a long day." Lilah sauntered over to Wesley, her hips swaying oh-so seductively. "I had a lot of tough decisions to make - mainly, who's expendable, and who . . . isn't - not as fun as it sounds. And I forgot, wore a white suit, didn't even get to get my hands dirty. But it's okay, because you . . . " she placed a kiss on his neck ". . . and I - "

"Lilah, please, I have company," Wesley informed her, taking a step back.

Lilah crossed her arms. "Who?"

Wesley led her to his bedroom, and to Dawn, who was still tossing and turning.

Lilah seemed a little stunned. "I always knew you were a sick fuck," she said softly, "but this really tops it off." She turned and started to leave, before Wesley stopped her.

"Lilah, it's not even close to what you're thinking. And she's eighteen - but that's besides the point. She's dying and she came to me for help. I have no idea what to do."

"Oh, I'm touched," Lilah said sarcastically, before letting her gaze rest on Dawn for a bit longer. "What's wrong with her? Besides an inability to stay still for two seconds?"

"You've heard of the Key?"

"She's not - "

Wesley nodded.

"That's the Key?"

Wesley nodded again. "She is, indeed. Well, she was - everyone assumed once the portal was closed, Dawn would just be a normal girl again, but it doesn't look to be so simple anymore." Wesley lowered his voice. "She had no purpose except for closing that portal - since it was closed without her, she's sort of self-destructing from the inside."

Lilah seemed to be thinking this over. "You say she's eighteen?"

"Yes, but that hardly - "

Lilah tiptoed over to the bed, softly slithering in beside her.

"Lilah - "

"I'm just seeing something, Wes. Calm down." Lilah pressed her lips to Dawn's. She made as if to pull back, but Dawn's lips responded, kissing Lilah back.

Wesley watched in horror (he couldn't admit his arousal).

Dawn's eyes opened and she gasped. "What's going on?"

Lilah brushed a peice of Dawn's hair back. "Shh. It's okay. It's okay."

Dawn's eyes were fixed on Lilah, as Lilah's hand began to creep around her body. Just as it grazed Dawn's breast and her eyes widened, Lilah pulled back and stood back up, and satisfied grin on her face.

*****

Dawn was confused. Who was this woman, and why had she been groping her? Not that she minded, but this was hardly the time to be having a lesbian fling. Then again, her time was limited, so maybe it was the perfect time.

And Dawn finally realized Wesley was standing there.

"Wesley, did you find out anything?" Dawn asked, all thoughts of the woman and her hands gone.

Wesley looked down and shook his head.

"Did you even look?"

The look on his face told her all she needed to know.

Dawn sighed and sat up in bed, her entire body aching. This was the supreme suck. Wesley didn't even care if she was dying - she thought he would be the only person who would. He probably called Giles, told him the Buffy killer was there. Bastard.

Dawn crawled out of bed slowly, trying to figure out a way to move that didn't make her scream. "Thanks, Wes. I'm leaving."

As she went to leave, Lilah stood in front of her. "You're not going anywhere, kid."

Dawn narrowed her eyes. "Who the hell are you to tell me where the f - " Dawn crumpled to the floor as pain jolted through her body.

Wesley rushed to her side, and Lilah leaned down, a smirk on her face.

Dawn climbed back to her feet, pushing both away. "Now, I'm leaving."

"Dawn, I didn't call Giles," Wesley said suddenly.

Dawn eyed him suspiciously, and then looked to Lilah who wore a bored look on her face. "Give me one reason to believe you."

"I don't know if I can," Wesley said softly. "I told you before that I didn't think there was anything I could do - about you - but what I forgot to tell you was . . . without tampering with some very dangerous forces, there isn't a way. Even if we were to attempt anything - I'm not sure if I could pull it off and - "

"Oh, please, Wolfram and Hart can do it in like, two seconds," Lilah said, interrupting Wesley.

Wolfram and Hart - this woman was from Wolfram and Hart? She had heard things about Wolfram and Hart, about evil hands and slutbomb lawyers and - Oh my God, she is the slutbomb lawyer, Dawn thought. "What can Wolfram and Hart do?"

"Give you a new destiny - without one you're self-destructing," Lilah nodded towards Wesley. "But like I said, nothing to get worked up about. I'll make a call in the morning and you'll be fine."

"Lilah, why are you doing this?" Wesley asked.

"Wesley, now why would you think I'm doing this for any reason other than to help out a friend of a friend?" Lilah countered to Wesley, the look on her face saying she was completely doing it for another reason.

Dawn sighed. "What's in it for you?"

Lilah slowly walked closer to Dawn, a look in her eyes Dawn couldn't quite decipher. She whispered in Dawn's ear, her voice softly seductive. "You'd have to sign on a contract. To me."

"For?" Dawn asked, her voice hitched.

"You'd be mine," Lilah said, her hands running along Dawn's backside. "You wouldn't mind that, would you?"

Dawn shook her head slowly, her eyes going closed. "No."

*****

What the hell was Lilah trying to do? Dawn would be hers? That could hardly end well, Wesley thought. On the other hand, a very ashamed part of him wondered what sexual games Lilah had in store for Dawn, and for him.

Bloody hell, this night was just getting stranger and stranger.

Wesley walked over to Lilah and Dawn and went to separate them, but Lilah started to kiss him passionately.

He couldn't help but kiss her back. He could never resist her. As Lilah pulled back she gave Dawn a look, and Dawn approached him tentatively, her eyes wide. She leaned up and ran her hand along Wesley's scar.

"How'd you get this, Wes?" Dawn asked, her eyes still wide. Looking so innocent yet so . . . so willing to be destroyed.

Wesley didn't know how to explain it, but finally came out with, "I made some bad decisions."

"This might be one," Dawn said softly. "But I don't care right now. I don't the choice to care." With that, she kissed him softly, sending a slowly burning arousal through Wesley's blood.

This was wrong. So wrong. Wesley couldn't find the strength to care. He pulled Dawn closer to him, as Lilah worked his belt from the back.

*****

In the silent moments afterwards, Dawn laid in between Lilah and Wesley's naked bodies, and she couldn't help but think of Buffy.

Buffy as she screamed.

Buffy who she killed.

Because she was a monster. What destiny would Lilah give her? What if it was an evil destiny, a destiny that would make her even worse than she was now? What if Lilah had plans for her even worse than anything she could imagine?

What if Dawn didn't care?

Dawn closed her eyes and eventually, she drifted off to a fitful sleep, full of monsters - herself, Lilah, Wesley.

.End