Come Back Wrong
Buffy had come back wrong.
There was no doubt about it. Dawn could see it the moment she truly looked at her, as she cupped her sister's face tenderly whilst metal and debris crashed menacingly around them, destroying the altar that had taken Buffy from her in the first place.
It wasn't the cascade of straw-like hair that hung erratically over her shoulders that gave it away. It wasn't the blue tinge around her sister's dry lips, or the pallid and slightly translucent quality of her skin. It wasn't even the way she held herself, awkward and resistant, as though she was unused to be thrust back into her body at such short notice. No, it was the glazed look in the reincarnated slayer's eyes that told Dawn that the apparition before her, whilst a corporeal resurrection of her sister's body, was missing a vital ingredient of what had in life made Buffy herself.
It starts innocently enough. A kiss of gratitude or comfort between siblings, a naïve expression of affection and tenderness. Lingering lips though change the temperament of the act, and she starts to feel stifled and unnerved in the warm clammy environment of this bed she shares with her sister. When a probing tongue comes into contact with her own, she realises that something is very wrong, and a sense of startled revulsion almost makes her physically lash out at the girl whom she knows to be her closest living relative. Paralysed by shock, she instead lies motionless and waits for the moment to pass, confident that surely this is all just some horrible mistake.
Over the summer, Dawn had grown accustomed to playing the guardian role over her sister. Of course that hadn't really been her sister, but a mechanical rendition of Buffy's physical attributes that required constant supervision and occasionally censorship. Nevertheless, it felt easy and natural for Dawn to protectively shroud Buffy in her embrace, and guide the shaking girl safely back to the comfort of their home.
"Home, see? You're back home. We're all ok now." Dawn offered the soothing words as encouragement, softly steering the dishevelled slayer towards the front door.
The moment does not pass, and as warm hands begin to slide under the hem of her shirt, she feels her heart beat speed up and her stomach flip over creating a fist of revulsion inside her. Something has clearly possessed her sister - something awful has happened in the time that they were separated, to cause this twist in their relationship. She feels sharp nails scraping over her nipple, which hardens involuntarily, as the fervent form beside her eliminates the remaining distance between them and suddenly they are enshrouded in a tangle of long hair and body heat.
Naturally Buffy was still disorientated. Dawn did her best to bring her sister up to date on the changes that had occurred since she had departed, attempting to maintain the air of reassurance that would appease the frightened girl, a skill that she was still learning to master. The numbness in Buffy's gaze was a constant reminder that Dawn was not yet dealing with the woman who had been her strong, self confident protector for so many years, but a scared little child who needed Dawn to take care of her.
It was with great care that she washed and dressed the now slightly less dishevelled blonde, the vulnerability emanating from her sparking a mothering instinct in Dawn despite being 6 years her junior. She was surprised to find Buffy's skin soft and warm, not scaly and cold as she had expected from the girl who had up until recently been decaying underground. The slayer remained catatonic as her sister completed the task of taming her appearance, but her eyes still held the wild quality that unnerved Dawn more than she cared to admit.
She knows she should pull away, stop this, confront whatever has taken control over her sister's writhing limbs and eager mouth, but she finds herself frozen to the spot, unable to co-ordinate herself into action as she lays disorientated and traumatised. The other girl forces her upright as she undresses them both, and still whilst her insides are screaming for her to put an end to this absurdity, she allows her sister to take control.
Dawn felt a wave of helplessness wash over her as Buffy left the bathroom, refusing to let her sister finish dressing her or tend to her wounds. Following the other girl to her mother's old room, she tried in vain to get Buffy to open up, relax, generally let down the defences that provided an impregnable barrier between the two of them and distanced Dawn from being able to work out what exactly about her sister had changed in those long desolate months. At the same time though, she wasn't sure that she wanted to release whatever was lurking just below the surface of Buffy's edgy exterior. Instead she settled for continuing to serve Buffy platitudes, as the blonde continued her erratic journey through the house.
All she can see in the darkness now is the silhouette of the figure atop her, leaning over her, whispering words that perhaps are meant to sooth, but only serve to illustrate that she is being treated like a possession, that she has no control over what is happening. She feels her legs forcefully parted, and two fingers unceremoniously thrust inside her in an act of pure dominance. She wants to scream, to throw the girl to the ground and run from the room, but her body won't co-operate, except to involuntarily arch into the contact. A free hand goes to her wrists, pinning her hands to the pillow above her head.
She can feel her own heartbeat coursing through her body, complimented by the beating pulse of the girl whose chest is pressed against her own as she continues to thrust what has now become three fingers indelicately inside her. Despite herself and the wrongness of this situation, the skilled ministrations are having a not unpleasant effect on her, and even as she clenches her teeth and feels the tears burning at the insides of her eyelids, she grants the other girl permission to bring her to orgasm with a dextrous twist of the digits driving this unthinkable calamity.
Spike's arrival, though not unwelcome, forced Dawn to take a back seat in looking after Buffy. The moment he realised what had happened to her, he began to take charge in directing the teenage girl's actions to suit what he believed to be best for Buffy. This caused Dawn no small amount of frustration - whilst she appreciated Spike's help, it put her out that he so arrogantly assumed the position of responsibility when she had been doing a perfectly fine job of tending to her sister on her own.
As her heart rate settles down, she realises that her sister has already risen from the bed. A wave of panic washes over her at the loss of contact despite herself, and then she finds herself overcome with nausea as she regains control of her limbs and violently sits up, clutching her abdomen and waiting for the feeling to pass. She tries hard to regulate her breathing and regain some sort of composure as she struggles to come to terms with what has just happened.
The entrance of the rest of the Scoobies only served to rile Dawn further. Their influx of questions and demands on her patient forced her to insist they back off, allowing her to vent some of the protective assertion that was driving her to keep everyone but herself at arms length from Buffy. Whilst she was still plagued with the worry that the slayer would turn and unleash a primal malevolent force that had twisted its way into her soul, her primary motivation was still an overwhelming urge to nurture and protect her sister, and it was that which compelled her to raise her voice to her former guardians.
She could barely contain her disappointment when Buffy detached herself from the interrogating crowd and retired to her room alone. She felt the need to go after her, check her sister was managing by herself, but she fought the urge in favour of giving Buffy the time she needed to compose herself and perhaps realise that she needed Dawn to come to her aid.
The figure hovers at the door, regarding her curiously and malevolently, satisfied that she has exerted her ownership and power. The tenderness that she had been showing her all evening has now completely evaporated, and all that remains is a monster who took advantage of a vulnerable trusting young woman. Suddenly finding herself exposed, she pulls the covers up over her naked torso and wills the other girl to leave her room.
As her sister closes the door wordlessly behind her, the harsh reality of the situation hits her so hard that the force of the impact knocks her back down onto the bed.
She must have come back wrong. She's the slayer and she can't even fight off her little sister.
After she heard Willow and Tara getting into bed, Dawn crept to the landing and stood outside her sister's door for what seemed like hours. She could hear Buffy moving around in there, and her mind was racing - was Buffy okay? Did she needs Dawn's help? Was she having nightmares about whatever untold hell dimension she had been pulled out of?
Finally it all got too much for her, and she gently twisted the door handle and let herself in without knocking. She found the blonde girl sat shaking on the edge of her bed, staring terrified at her harmless collection of photos. Acting on instinct, she immediately wrapped both arms around the small petrified figure and gently pulled her back down against the mattress.
"Come on Buffy" Dawn gently coaxed her sister. "Let me tuck you back into bed".