FicWad

Howl

Even If The Most Vivid Colors Aren't Real..

Sometimes, if she strained enough, she could hear the werewolves howl. Though she only knew one, and that was Willow's ex-boyfriend. Willow was her older sister's best friend. Forbidden territory to the younger girl. Dawn sat up and looked out the window. Oz was a quiet, sweet guy. He was shorter that Willow, taller than Dawn. 'Duh,' though Dawn. She was only ten at the time, and very small too. But then Oz left, and things went out of wack for a while. Dawn was unusually sad about this. Although the older werewolf never really talked to her (or at all for that matter) he would send her kind smiles and wave from a crossed the room, or give her a journal and a warm hand at the elbow for her birthday. He always gave her the prettiest journals. And only Oz gave her journals for those three years, everyone got the hint that journals for Dawn was his thing. She liked it. She would always use her best handwriting on the thin lines. And hours after the party had ended, she would stare at the design. Dawn held her knees to her chest. The moon shone. It was late. She picked up the phone by her bed. She thought. It was the biggest risk. His journals were all around her. The monks never missed a step. Never stumbled. The-phone-is-off-the-hook,-put-it-back-on noise rang through her room.
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For her thirteenth birthday Oz got her a gold journal. There was shimmering blue swirls that outlined a picture. An outline of a girl stood, with long wild hair, watching a sunrise. Dawn. She had cried. It alarmed the wolf as she had stared at the book for the longest time, then allowed tears to creep from her eyes and soft sobs to leave her throat. She had gently set the journal down and walked to were Oz was sitting. She had awkwardly put her arms around his shoulders and hugged him. "Thank you" was whispered. And a warm smile was held on his face as he placed an ear by her heart, and an arm on her waist. Her heartbeat skipped.
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Dawn sat on her lawn. Oz's van stopped in front of the house. He walked around with his coat and hast. He stopped short of her, his breath hitched. She stared with endless eyes. And they stayed like that for long moments. He sat down in front of her and took her hand, staring into the deep pools that he would swim in.

"I've done something bad..." He crushed his lips to her to keep from crying out. He held his heart in his hands out to offer for her. And she took it. Her first kiss. It made her spin, Oz. Her first kiss! She felt her arm coil around his torso. His hand tangled in her hair. And she placed a hand on his shoulder blade. He pulled her closer than ever. Dawn broke for breath and stared into his amber eyes. She put a pale hand to his cheek.

"What did you do?" She asked softly, and he told her, tears in his eyes. He had two sins on his shoulders. Veruca and Dawn herself. She cried slightly, for herself and Willow. He soothed her by placing his lips to her's again. Slowly his tong slipped in a massaged her's, beginning a tango. They weren't worried about Buffy, she was at Willow's, or Joyce, she was at the gallery. They pulled back, breathing hard, faces red. He picked her up and carried her into the house.

"How long-?" She explained that Buffy would spend the night at Willow's and that Joyce would be late. She looked him in the eyes and she carried her up the stares, around a corner, and into her room. "We shouldn't do this."

"I love you," she breathed. He nodded and kissed down her neck, to her collarbone. He tugged at her shirt. It ripped and her kissed her rosebud breasts. She tangled her hands in his hair and arched. He kissed her shoulders and placed a hand on the waist of her short-shorts. A door slammed.

"Dawn? Dawn, are you up there?" He jumped up and looked to the window.

"I'm sorry." He placed a kiss on her lips and looked in her eyes. "I love you too."
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The phone rang forever. "Hello?" Her heart skipped a beat.

"Hey, Oz." A startled noise flew over the phone.

"Dawn?" The words were whispered. "How...?"

"It doesn't matter." Her voice broke, and she was on the point of crying. "I've never been kissed."

"What?"

"I'm not real! Those-those monks. They made you love me. Made me love you. Do I love you? Do you even love me? Oh my God. I don't even know the answer and my heart's breaking."

"Dawn, calm down."

"No! I can't. I've only been real for 6 months! I remember kissing you, but we never have! And Buffy's gone!" A ringing silence. On one side of the phone she sat with a shaking hand on her mouth. The other side held his frightened look.

"Dawn," he said slowly, "meet me at the entrance of the cemetery Wednesday morning. Okay?"

"Oz?"

"Please."

"Okay." Whispers. And a dead line.