She misses her. Sometimes, all the time, never. Time does funny things when it doesn't matter. And when he's there, nothing really matters. Take my pain away, some things aren't meant to be saved. Short brown hair, brown eyes, a soft, sweet, nervous smile that most would miss if they weren't looking for it.
But then it's shorter, spiked hair, eyes deep pools of nothingness and a harsh smirk on her face, hands roughly dragging her, causing her to cry out as his sinks his fangs into her neck or worse. Her face fading into a cruel man's. Fangs, eyes flashing yellow, an angry growl emitting from the base of his throat if she didn't do what she was supposed to.
Usually, she remembers who he is, whom exactly it is that she's here with. Or at least sometimes. She thinks. Maybe. He's a vampire, one who dated her siste… Bunny. Batty? Buffy. She's the one who made him a vampire, she's pretty sure.
Sometimes, the girl comes to her when he's asleep. The words done with her would come to mind, but she's got so little of hers left that she wouldn't notice if they did. She holds Dawn as she cries, stroking her hair, kissing her tears as they fall.
Other times, the girl stands there, watching it while it happens, while he takes her blood (and sometimes- no), and it's her crying with silent tears falling down her porcelain-doll face. She feels for Dawn, but there's nothing for her to feel sorry for. She brought it on herself, she's told, and she's got no mind to disagree.
When she's feeling adventurous, Dawn tries to remember when she knew the girl she's come to think of as an angel. On a lucky day, she draws a blank, and decides it doesn't matter. But sometimes, she gets flashes of a bunch of girls sleeping on a floor inside a house with a big boarded-up window or worse yet, the girl hanging from the ceiling with a bed sheet around her neck. When she remembers that, she almost prefers his being there to remembering.
On the days when he's taken more blood than usual the night before, more power he says, she can't even bring herself to acknowledge the girl, even when she's in her arms. The soft touches and calming words don't even register. It's only ever after, (after what? What was before?) that she remembers a promise that was made to her.
Just let go. You can be with me, and all this will be gone. You won't even feel a thing.
But by then, she doesn't know who said it, anyway.