((A/N: Dawn drabble, not sure when it takes place. Written in 15 minutes, and the first story I've actually posted. I need your constructive criticism, people! Please, please review!))

They were on their third date when he told Dawn he loved her.

Two years ago, Dawn would have melted in his hands. She would have sighed at his brilliant smile, leaned into him as he kissed her carefully glossed lips and followed him home when he slid his hand up the back of her shirt.

Two years ago.

He drives home alone, disappointed, nursing a bloody nose and his wounded pride.

Dawn knows what love is. Love is hot cocoa and soft words, preschool pictures stuck with magnets on the fridge, loss and suffering and a hole in your chest that feels like it will never go away.

"I love you, Dawnie."

Love is light teasing and too-tight hugs, mutual jealousy and perfume, late-night sniffles, diary theft, last words before the final jump, guilt.

"I love you. I will always love you."

Love is musty leather and candle wax, curses and endearments in the same breath, cigarette butts littered under the tree out front, stories in the dark, strength and blood and protection.

Dust.

"Till the end of the world, luv."

She wonders, after she's had a few minutes to cool down, if he thought he was telling the truth.