"Push harder," Dawn said, and Buffy did, just a little.

Dawn giggled because she was happy and young girls do that.

Dawn was never on the swings.

Dawn doesn't like marshmallows. They're puffy and sticky and excessively sweet. They melt in the sun and stick together, gooey pink and white lumps.

Dawn has had bad experiences with marshmallows.

Back in LA, at a friend's 6th birthday party, they served all sorts of sugary treats. There was fairy bread, covered in sprinkles. The bread was floppy, the sprinkles fell on the floor and their colouring melted onto her skin. She ate five pieces, getting thin rainbow trails all over her hands and around her mouth.

There were crisps, various different flavours. Dawn ate handfuls, stuffed them into her mouth. She liked the extra loud crunching noises they made as she chewed them.

There were fizzy drinks, the bubbles intoxicating. Dawn half drank several cups of coke, leaving them all over the room. They made her feel giggly.

Then there were the marshmallows. She had a whole bunch and they stuck to her mouth and teeth. They felt gluggy and thick as she swallowed them. She felt too full. Dawn barely had time to get to the kitchen before she vomited, all over the tile. It came out in pink and white, acidy chunks. Dawn cried.

Dawn has never been to a sixth birthday party.

It was a warm day when Joyce took Buffy and Dawn with her to Sunnydale. The car seats felt sticky and the radio sounded of static. Joyce stopped at a roadhouse and bought Dawn ice cream.

The ice cream was pink and blue. It melted onto her fingers and the car seat. They never got the stain out. For a long time after that the car smelt of bubblegum flavoured ice cream.

This never happened. Dawn knows this.

Dawn smudges the eyeliner around her eyes. The black liquid makes her eyes look mysterious, brings out the blue. She wipes her fingers on a tissue then applies the mascara, wiggling it along her eyelashes.

She applies the lipstick - a soft pink - straight from the tube. It feels creamy and heavy going on, makes her lips feel slippery.

With make-up on her face looks sharper, older. It wasn't always her face. She's older than she looks.

Once, she was a big buzzing ball of energy. Blue-green swirls if Glory was to believed. They made this body out of Buffy, somehow, and the memories out of air.

Dawn looks into the mirror. Her reflection looks normal, just like a girl.

"I'm not real," she says, and laughs.

She only feels real.