They were in Italy, at a club, dancing. Sunnydale losers, the even more sketchy guys she picked up in Chicago, the emo hipsters that followed her home in London, the Eurotrash boys here in Rome . . . seeing her sister grinding against any of them always made Buffy feel sick to her stomach. At least when Dawn brought boyfriends back to their flat she could pretend her little sister was still in middle school and wouldn't do anything more than cuddling and some awkward frenching. But to see her being so undeniably sexual -- especially when it was so wasted on these slimebags -- that she wanted to avoid at all costs. So Buffy tended to monopolize her sister's dance card. She wasn't sure if Dawn was just humoring her or if she really was more interested in getting her dance on than in taking some mouth-breather home with her, but she honestly didn't care much.
The smoke from someone's cigarette blew right into Buffy's face, and she coughed.
"Do you wanna head home?" Dawn asked.
Buffy tossed her hair as the next song started. "No, I'm good."
Dawn put her hand on Buffy's chest, hands splayed out across the shimmering blue fabric, stilling them both. "Buffy, it's fine. This club is lame, anyway."
Back at the flat, Buffy stripped her clothes off and fell into bed. The air-conditioning was minimal, but she was always so exhausted from slaying and clubbing that she had no trouble falling asleep.
Dawn slid into bed next to her. Not yet asleep, Buffy registered the cool fabric and warm skin and murmured questioningly.
Dawn spooned against her, wrapping one arm around her waist. "I used to sleep with the Bot sometimes, that summer you were gone -- the second summer, I mean."
Buffy swallowed guiltily, unsure what to say.
Dawn kissed the back of Buffy's neck softly, and Buffy moaned, leaning back into the touch.
Dawn's arm felt heavy against her flesh, like the seat bar on a roller coaster, grounding her.
She could have fallen asleep that way, but Dawn moved away from her and she opened her eyes in surprise.
She saw her baby sister above her, meeting her eyes for just a moment and then dipping her head to suckle one of her breasts.
She should have been freaked out by this, she knew. She should have been worried that her sister was possessed by a succubus or an incubus or had been replaced by a pod person or something. She should have been calling Giles, looking at books, tying up her sister to keep her out of trouble, but no, she was just lying there, enjoying it.
Dawn was tender at first, then more intense. Buffy had the fleeting notion that it seemed almost worshipful, but mostly the physical sensations drowned any thought.
Dawn's fingers skimmed over Buffy's wetness, and Buffy gasped.
Dawn slipped one finger inside her and whispered . . . Buffy was fairly certain it was "shh," as if to reassure her, which almost made her laugh in terror.
Dawn slipped another finger inside her, and Buffy tilted her hips upward to encourage her.
It felt strange, but good, and then, oh god, Dawn was twisting her whole hand inside her, stretching her out, and Buffy felt almost like she could break apart at the seams.
Dawn brushed her lips over Buffy's clit, and she fell apart.
When Buffy woke up the next morning, she remembered what had happened the previous night. Oh god, I've become That Girl who falls asleep after sex.
After a shower, Buffy donned a bathrobe, put her hair up in a loose ponytail, and headed to the kitchen. She saw her sister sitting at the table eating a bowl of cereal.
"Dawn . . . ."
Dawn looked up nervously.
"I'm sorry about last night," Buffy said.
Dawn's gaze fell back to her cereal. "Don't mention it," she mumbled, shoveling a spoonful into her mouth.
Buffy quickly crossed the length of the kitchen and put her hand on Dawn's shoulder. "That's not what I meant."
Dawn chewed her cereal silently.
"Look at me."
Dawn looked up.
"I'm sorry I fell asleep. That wasn't very nice of me."
Dawn looked confused.
Buffy leaned down and kissed her. Dawn kissed her back, and Buffy slid into her lap, brushing her breasts over her t-shirt. God it was good to not have roommates.
She slipped her hand under the waistband of Dawn's shorts, touching her like she touched herself on lonely nights.
Dawn squirmed. "Could we move this somewhere slightly more comfortable?"
Buffy slid off her lap and ran her hand through Dawn's long hair, letting her fingers get caught. This seemed like less of a good idea in the daylight, and she inhaled slowly.
Dawn stared resolutely at a point somewhere on the far wall.
"Do you want this?" Buffy asked softly.
"Yes," Dawn replied.
"Then stand up." Buffy tugged gently at Dawn's hair, and Dawn obediently stood up. Buffy pressed her up against the wall with a kiss, her fingers going back to work.
They didn't talk about it. And Dawn still brought home greasy punks from clubs some nights (as did Buffy, truth be told). But they slipped easily into each other's beds.