Unconditional Love
She was always watching Buffy, and had always been watching her as far back as she could remember -- further back than she had even actually existed.
Which meant the monks had put this need, this craving, in her, had made her not only out of Buffy, but to be endlessly fascinated by her as well.
Maybe it was a built-in learning technique -- watch Buffy, learn how to be a real girl! -- or maybe it was some strange side effect of being made from her, blood calling to blood, DNA to DNA, some strange lure to be part of, to be joined to the original she'd been modelled on.
But whatever the reason, Dawn was always watching Buffy, hyperaware of every word, every movement, memorising every little detail, and replaying them over and over in her head.
If that was all it was, Dawn would have chalked it up to some strange obsessive compulsive thing, shrugged it off and lived with it. It was annoying , but as compulsions went, relatively harmless and easy to conceal.
But it was more than that.
Lately, as she watched, Dawn found herself taking more... interest than she should.
She had always known and noted that Buffy was beautiful, limber, graceful and strong; and until recently Dawn had reacted to this knowledge the way any little sister should: with envy, jealousy, pride and admiration, often with more of the former two than the latter.
But lately Dawn had noticed another reaction in herself: desire.
She would look at Buffy and find herself wanting. Pictures, fantasies, would pop into her head, all unwanted and unasked for, pictures that would make Dawn squirm and leave her aching and frustrated.
She wasn't stupid. She kept these feelings to herself, knowing no one would understand and not wanting the looks they would give her, or the therapy she'd no doubt find herself in.
Therapy wouldn't do any good, anyway, Dawn knew. The monks had made this a part of her. This was just the way she was, something that couldn't be changed without changing everything else.
It was ironic, she thought. Buffy had worried she had come back wrong, but it wasn't Buffy who was the wrong one.
It was her, Dawn.
Dawn knew all this, she'd figured it out and knew what it was, and she acted like there was nothing there, when anyone could see. But sometimes, late at night, the thoughts and feelings would overwhelm her.
She'd lie in bed, tossing and turning, feeling like she was going to jump out of her skin.
Just like tonight.
She tried but she was never able to stop the thoughts, the mental pictures, of what it would feel like if Buffy touched her that way, of what Buffy would look like if she touched her back.
She tried but she couldn't settle her mind enough to go to sleep -- not until she did something about it.
So, silently, under the covers, she touched herself while thinking of her sister. She ran her hands over her body, imagining it was Buffy touching her. In the dark, with her eyes closed, it was easy to lose herself in the fantasy.
She gasped as she traced her nipples then pinched them hard, sending zings of sensation down to her center. A hand slid between her legs, feeling how wet she already was, fingers brushing lightly over her clit, then coming back and pressing harder.
Buffy was the Slayer; she wouldn't be gentle, not when she got excited. She'd be a little rough, her strength getting away from her in her need. Dawn craved that roughness, that little edge of discomfort, even pain, that came from being with somone so much stronger than she was who wasn't quite fully in control.
She wanted to feel Buffy holding her down, be able to squirm and writhe and know that she couldn't get free. She wanted to feel the contrast the gentle, light touch of Buffy's hair brushing over her skin with the strength of Buffy's grip holding her, and Buffy's fingers in her, on her, working her mercilessly.
Dawn touched herself that way, the way she imagined Buffy would, sliding a finger inside while she rubbed her clit firmly with her thumb. She could feel herself getting close, panting for breath like she'd be running a mile, her hips moving into her touch, no matter how much she tried to hold them perfectly still.
She imagined that if she opened her eyes, she would see Buffy looking down at her, watching her with that intense gaze she got when was completely focused on something, and underneath that focus would be the love.
Dawn didn't have to imagine that; she saw it every time she looked at Buffy. Buffy loved her; she loved her more than anyone else did. She'd been ready to sacrifice the universe for her -- she had died for her, you couldn't get a much more obvious declaration than that.
Imagining Buffy touching her while looking at her like that, loving her with heart and body, was the last little thing Dawn needed to come. Her body trembled and shook with the power of her climax, the pleasure overwhelming her and spilling from her mouth as a wordless cry.
She was still recovering from the intense orgasm, panting and staring at the ceiling when the shadow appeared in her half-open doorway.
"Dawn? I thought I heard... Are you okay?"
Buffy. Dawn quickly sat up, one hand moving to brush her hair back from her face. "Um, yeah," she replied, hoping her voice sounded normal and not...whatever you call post masturbation -- sated? Pleasure drunk? She shook her head trying to dislodge the mental babble. "Just, y'know, bad dream."
"Ah." Buffy came in and sat down beside her. "Thought it might be." She reached up and began smoothing her fingers through Dawn's hair, and Dawn did her best not to shiver at the touch.
"Yep," she said, forcing herself to not react to Buffy's closeness, which was almost impossible considering. "You hear anything in the middle of the night and that's usually what it is. Bad dream."
"That or a demon attacking," Buffy agreed, still threading her fingers through Dawn's hair. "You want to talk about it?"
"No!" Dawn exclaimed a bit too vehemently and too loudly. She quickly tried to backpeddle. "I mean I barely remember it and what I do is really stupid... In fact, I don't remember...any of it?"
Way to go, Dawn, she thought. Buffy's really going to believe that.
But Buffy just smiled. "Okay, I get the picture. No talking. I can do the no talking thing. Silent and supportive big sister, that's me." She was still playing with Dawn's hair, and Dawn wasn't sure if she wanted to beg her to stop or to keep doing it forever. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Can I sleep in with you tonight?" Dawn heard herself ask, then had to suppress the urge to clap a hand over her mouth in an effort to pull the words back or at least keep herself from saying anything else that could get her in trouble.
"Sure," Buffy replied, giving her a sympathetic look and a brief hug. "I could use the company." She stood up and headed for the door, then shot back over her shoulder. "As long as you don't turn into a blanket hog."
"Me?" Dawn exclaimed. "I am so not a blanket hog! Especially when compared to-" She broke off when she saw Buffy grinning at her. "You just like seeing if you can get me going don't you?"
"It's a hobby," Buffy replied breezily. "You coming?"
Dawn quickly stamped on the first reply that her perverted brain offered up. "Yeah, in a minute. I just need to..." she gestured at the bathroom, "y'know."
She watched Buffy leave then got up and went to the bathroom to clean herself up before following.
Dawn knew she was playing with fire crawling into bed with Buffy with the way she felt, but the temptation was just too great to refuse. She knew that she was never going to get what she fantasized about, what she craved. But lying in the same bed as Buffy, feeling her warmth and closeness, knowing that she was loved... it was a lot.
It wasn't what she wanted, but somehow Dawn would make it be enough.