A/N: Eep! I wrote femslash! Er, sort of. ;p

Dawn kept her eyes closed as she felt the cool hands part her thighs before a cold wet tongue slowly circled her clit. She remembered the first time it had happened.

She had been spending the night at a friend’s place; she did that a lot since her sister had died, then come back. Buffy was too busy being the slayer and saving the world to take care of her little sister. More like she was too busy boinking Spike to care where she was.

It had started as a kiss, just one innocent little kiss. She had only agreed because it sounded like a good idea, after all how else would she know if she were doing it right? It's not like she could ask a boy she had just kissed if she was any good at it.

Then it started to go further. She felt hands on her chest, lightly tweaking her nipples. It felt good but she knew this was wrong so she tried to stop it. Her tormentor just shushed her and told her it was okay, to picture someone she was attracted to and pretend it was them. She did. That was why she didn't protest when her top was removed and a mouth replaced the hand on her breast.

It was why she never complained when she was eased onto her back and her pants were opened. It was the only reason she allowed those hands to undress her. She was picturing someone else, feeling someone else touching her so intimately. By the time she felt her panties being removed, she was a writhing mass of need and frustration. So all she did was lift her hips to assist.

Then the hands were parting her thighs and she felt the lightest brushing of lips against her sex. She trembled in anticipation. She felt her lips being spread and then the first touch of tongue to her clit. She arched off the bed in need.

"Please." She had whispered and was rewarded. Soon the mouth on her pussy was driving her faster and faster toward climax, she tensed her thighs around the head between her legs and screamed out the name of her lover.

"Spike!"

It was no surprise really. She was made from Buffy. Was it any shock that she would have the same desires? The same wants? Not to her, or apparently to the one who had given her her fantasy.

Now, when they do this, Janice keeps a glass of ice water beside the bed. She doesn't ask why Dawn wants her hands and mouth to feel cold as she touches her, nor does she care. Just as Dawn doesn't ask who "Mitchell' is or why she wants Dawn to use her nails and scratch her when she returns the favor. After all, this all the norm for dating in Sunnydale California, where the demon population matches the human.


THE END