A/N: Buffy died and came back. This is AU, definitely. This is what would have happened if Spike and Dawn went into a relationship after Buffy died and continue to have one, under everyone's noses. You'll find out more as the short story goes on, but just ask if you have a question.
Chapter 1
"Dawn, I did it because I love you."
And that repeats through her head everyday. It's tattooed on her soul as if it was a bad nightmare. But it was worse.
It was her reality.
But she was older now. Not that eighteen-year-old spunky little girl. She's grown and, all the men say, in the right places. Her hair was long and dyed a black that contrasted with her translucent skin. A couple of tattoos and piercings littered acrossed her body that complied well with a permanent sneer acrossed her face. Now a little south of twenty-four, her heart wasn't so soft anymore. He broke it and she was never able to fix it. So it just got layered until it got lost and was never or could never be found.
I did it because I love you her ass.
She sighs as she sees another one. Platinum hair and blue eyes. 'What the fuck is up with blonde this season,' she says to herself as she doesn't even think about getting her hopes up. It leaves her worse the morning after. Continuing to dip and rise for her audience, she ignores all the platinum hair and blue eyed men. Not that she even really sees them as men. They're just customers that give her the ability to have a job.
Too bad it isn't a better one.
A thick, burley man nods to her, showing that he needs to talk to her. She bends over, slowly letting her body climb to its original pose and walked over to him.
"Man at table seven wants you. Private," his voice says dark and heavy. She takes a short glance at the man. Platinum hair and blue eyes. Shaking her head, she put her foot down.
"You know I don't do those types," she hisses. Her eyes are cold and let no light escape-another black hole that dwells in her body.
"I know. I told him that, but he doesn't care. Name a price. He wants you." And she thinks about how much money she needs.
"I'll take him at his higher offer," she says as she saunters into the back where the changing room was at, deciding to clean up a bit.
She didn't need to look in a mirror, she knew where exactly each crevice and line dwelled on her face. Washing her face with a wet towel, she applied foundation to cover up the flaws on her face that everyone noticed. Black line under the bottom of her eye and on the top. A swoop of green eye shadow. A coat of blistex on her lips. And concealer for under her eyes. Putting on a pleather mini-skirt and a skin tight white halter, she stepped out onto the main room.
She didn't look good. She certainly didn't look great. But who the hell was she trying to impress?
"Hi," he said, slinking back into his chair, his pressed pants wrinkling slightly. He was a business type-the normal guys who came in here. His blonde hair was all gelled and his beard all shaved and his tie so perfectly ironed that she guessed him to be OCD.
"Hey there, stud," she replied, gently rubbing her leg against the inside of his leg.
He held up a wad of cash. She took it and counted it. Three hundred dollars. Nice.
"There's a room here in the back. Let's go." And he followed her, closely, acting like a thirteen year old boy who just found his first porn magazine.
She pushed him into a chair and watched him sink back into it, like it was quicksand. Slowly twisting her hips, she brought her hands down to the top of her skirt and slowly pushed it off. It left her in a red g-string.
"You want this?" she asked, running her hands up and down her body.
"Yes," he hissed, watching intently.
"You got it," she finished, crawling onto his lap, letting his hands touch her in the most secretive places that weren't that private anymore. Kissing his foreign mouth, plunging her tongue with his, slowly undoing his pants, she tried to forget his words. She really did.
"Dawn, I did it because I love you."
This is going to be a very, very short fic. I was inspired. Hope you like it.