Warnings: A little bit of angst maybe?
Prompt: #335- Perfume @ tamingthemuse
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys. Joss won't let me have them. Bad Joss. Grrr...
This fic was nominated at
Everyone has a talent. Something that sets them apart from the crowd, makes them special and unique. For some, its singing. For others, its art. For Dawn Summers, its theft.
When she started, back at the beginning of June, she had been so nervous. Now she could walk into any store in town and
walk away with a shiny new something to add to her collection.
Once or twice, she'd nearly been caught. There was a nasty moment where the bottle of perfume she'd been about to lift slipped from her grasp and shattered on the floor. She had been lucky that the store security guard had rushed outside to help with an 'animal attack'.
Demons, it seemed, could be useful. Dawn had slipped away in the confusion.
That had been one of the earlier times. Since then, she had become skillful in her new hobby. What she stole depended on her mood. On the bad days, the days when it really hit home that Buffy and Joyce were dead, Dawn would hit the better stores, finding ways of getting designer clothes out of the shops without anyone batting an eyelid. On the better days, she would only take for the sake of being able to. A Twinkie for Xander, lipstick for herself... Little things that didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things.
Only one thing made her feel guilt. A single theft amongst many. On a grey, overcast day, Dawn stole flowers. The flower shop had bunches of yellow daisies in a stand by the door. They caught Dawn's eye and before she had even realised what she was doing, she was already walking away, flower's clutched tightly in her hand.
They looked out of place, though- too bright under the threat of rain. Besides, her mom wouldn't want stolen flowers anyway. Dawn swept the obscenely cheerful blooms away and dropped them in the gutter somewhere between the cemetery and Revello Drive.
The next day, Dawn returned to the flower shop, and took another bunch of yellow daisies, leaving the money for them on the counter.
There was no guilt. The colourful petals didn't look out of place like they had done less than 24 hours earlier. Dawn sat by her mother's grave
and silently begged forgiveness until darkness fell, and self-preservation shepherded her home.