Author's Notes: Beta'd by the wonderful and talented Spikeslovebite. This is Dawn/Illyria - please note this is ten years after NFA. There is a difference in 16 year old Dawn and 26 year old Dawn. Written for the jossverse challenge
Disclaimer: As always, the characters are creations of Joss
Illyria watched her.
It was odd, the way this construction made her feel - emotions she wished she didn’t have. They were stronger than her fondness – or tolerance – for her pet vampire; yet different than those that had consumed her when she’d watched Wesley die.
She felt- no, she needed- to be close to Dawn. She desired to touch her, to pet her as if she were a lover.
But she wasn’t a mortal, and she didn’t have what the Key called ‘fuzzy feelings.’ So it had to be something else. It needed to be something else.
She was a God-King. Dawn was the Key; raw energy capable of breaking apart dimensions, even if she refused to accept it. Perhaps that was what she feeling. Her power. It wasn’t love, or lust, or any of those annoying human emotions. It was the draw to power; the awareness of another who could be her equal. She decreed it so, and therefore it was. She told herself it was about the power, even as the young construction dragged her to bed.
She protested, of course. Not because she wanted to, but because she felt she should. The Key silenced her with a kiss and restrained her with silk scarves. She explained that the point was not to restrict the power of the God-King- no one could do that- but to stay with the restraints of her own volition; to display her power by subjecting her will to another.
It was a strange argument, but she gave in as the Key dominated her body. She even forgot why she felt she should argue. Before long, it was limbs entangled and gleaming skin rubbing against naked flesh. It was a clash of tongues, of lips, of fingers, of joyous rapture. It was the weakness she felt when she switched to the Fred persona, only to be told to switch back. That it was she that was truly desired. Not Fred. Not the human shell, but the God King. Then there were lips in new places and with a strangled curse she came.
And so the relationship began. Strange and passionate, confusing and powerful, unlike anything she had ever experienced. She raged against it, not wanting to be weak, not wanting to admit to these feelings, these emotions, even as her body caved to the caresses of the girl. Where she argued, the Key countered. Commanding and in control.
Life continued the strange dance, and she found it complicated. Dawn had harnessed her humanity, reveled in their combined powers, and committed them both to the Slayers cause, but never the Council. It was strange. They fought, they fucked, and they had fun. She liked to argue. For a year they debated on who was oldest - who took precedence and was the elder. She decided she liked to argue, but losing the argument was more…entertaining.
She discovered that she wanted to destroy those who came before her. To eradicate them from this earth, for daring to touch her Key, for claiming her in ways which she might never know. For carving a piece of her heart out, for keeping it all this time, she should remove their heart. Preferably with much pain.
Dawn tried to explain it to her. Tried to instill the part of humanity which understood that one cannot simply stop loving someone, even after breakups and when both have moved on. That love is something that exists in a variety of forms. Dawn tried to reassure her with words and with her body that she belonged to no other. Not to the slayer who was her first, or to the demon who taught her that love didn’t have to be restricted to one sex, or even one species.
Dawn assured her that no one had ever made her feel like Illyria had. That she was hers, entirely, without doubt. That they were equals in power, mated for an eternity together. For the Key had eventually stopped aging.
Her words were soothing, yet Illyria still plotted the demise of those who had come before.
Time passed them by. Locked in their own private world, watching and waiting for something that remained elusive. They lost count of how many battles they fought, how many foes vanquished, and eventually learned not to make any new friends. The aging process was not kind on humans, and those that they lost touch with passed on, yet those who died too young hurt even more.
They melded and meshed as time went on. Illyria became more human in her actions; reminding Dawn of Anya, but never the Fred whom Spike had told her about. Even though Dawn’s memories were fake, she had always been the more human of the two.
Yet even that began to erode. Dawn embraced the Key powers, learning, exploring, trying to reclaim the bits she lost. But it wasn’t that which drove her from humanity. It was the loss. As friends and family died they retreated into their relationship. Taking solace with those who understood humanity was fleeting.
Dawn worries one day she will forget what it was like to be human. But she ignores it, takes her pleasure in her lover’s body, in the familiar contours of her Blue Goddess. In the end they only have each other.
But in the end, that is enough.