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The morning light shone in geometric shapes across the floor of the Magic Box; Anya was staring at them.

“I don’t get it,” Dawn whined. “Why would they be all snuggly one day and then the next day she’s suddenly uber depressed and they’re all...unsnuggly?”

Giles looked at her from across the table. Dawn’s unfinished history homework was spread out before her; Xander and Anya sat on either side of her.

Giles sighed.

“Buffy’s reached a-a point in time that occurs after one has been sired. In layman’s terms, a sort of epiphany that...well, right now, Buffy’s just now understanding the full impact of her situation, that she is a vampire.”

“So she didn’t know she was a vampire before this?” Xander asked.

“No, she knew but the extent of it is just hitting her. It’s rather like coming down from a high, I suppose.”

“Does she still love Spike?” Dawn wondered out loud.

Giles sighed again. “I don’t know.”

“Of course she loves Spike. The magazine said so,” Anya interjected, looking up.

Xander and Giles stared at her while Dawn directed her gaze back down to her homework.

“That doesn’t make sense. You don’t just love someone one day and not love them the next. Otherwise it wouldn’t be love.”

--= =-- --= =-- --= =--

Buffy sat forlornly in the fetal position on the floor of the upstairs bathroom wearing nothing but her old robe. Her eyes were red but dry now; she had cried herself into a hazy state of thinking.

Exhaling her unneeded breath, she slowly pulled herself up using the wall as a support. She had been trying to keep her breathing at a steady pace but found it to be more of a burden than a comfort.

After gaining her balance she turned around and came face to face with the empty space where her reflection should have been. Buffy stared at the empty mirror, a mixture of horror and sad acceptance playing over her features, not that she could see them.

She took a step backwards so her back was against the wall. Collapsing down onto the floor again, one of her new instincts registered how close she was to the small ray of light that was shining through the window onto the floor.

Buffy looked at it dazed and slowly reached toward it, her fingers stretched out as though they belonged to the hand of a curious child. Her fingertips brushed against and slid under the light. Almost immediately, her skin started to smoke. She wrenched her hand back and cradled her burned limb against her chest.

She glared at the beam of sunshine with despair and she suddenly remembered her dreams from last night. She thought of her in the sunlight, the pink rose, the red one, the carnal acts that had been so vivid because she had just performed them in reality with a demonic glee. She thought of Spike.

For the past few months, she had been sleeping with her murderer. And she had reveled in every second of it. She knew he had killed her by her request but she wasn’t supposed to be enjoying her death. He wasn’t supposed to be enjoying her death.

He couldn’t understand. Sure, he probably had his own...whatever it was she was going through now. But it wasn’t like he had a soul for it to have really made much of an effect. She had a conscience and she had killed a person. And what scared Buffy was that she had killed on instinct and fury. It had been an unconscious decision. And she had nearly killed Riley. But Spike had stopped her. He stopped her. Why?

Buffy thought back to the blur that was last night and tried to recall what Spike had told her while he was holding her still. /You’ll be biting no one but me...I’m jealous...Your fangs are mine, Slayer...one of the good guys...You don’t kill people./ The memories were hard to focus on because at the time she had been concentrating so hard on getting air into her dead lungs. Spike had stopped her from biting Riley because he was possessive.

/You don’t kill people./ But that wasn’t true. She had killed on impulse. And it had felt natural.

Buffy curled back into the fetal position.

She /had/ to learn to control her demon instincts. She couldn’t let her demon rule her. She might hurt someone.

Buffy’s thoughts drifted to Darla and Drusilla. Her first reaction was the usual “family” recognition thoughts. Her second was disgust at the first. Why would she ever feel anything remotely tender toward either vampire? She regretted letting them go, Drusilla twice. How many people had they killed because of her blind eye? Yet Drusilla hadn’t harmed Dawn because of her connection to Buffy.

Buffy pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes.

“Buffy?” Willow said as she knocked on the door. “Come on Buffy. Please come out. I made sandwiches. And I warmed up some blood.”

Buffy looked at the door, not intending to open it but her stomach rumbled at the mention of blood. She still hadn’t eaten. As much as she hated her food schedule, nothing else would fill her.

Willow sighed in relief as Buffy unlocked the door.

--= =-- --= =-- --= =--

Tara’s eyes widened as Dawn began to take on the monster in front of her.

“Good god, that's a lot of shake.”

Dawn looked up and nodded.

“I mean, I know, part of our big movie and milkshake fun day, but...good god, that's a lot of shake.”

“Helps to wash down the Raisinettes,” Dawn laughed as she drank from a very large chocolate milkshake.

“Promise me that you will eat something green tonight. Leafy green, not...gummy green.”

They both laughed.

“The movie was fun,” Tara continued.

“Yeah. It was ironic when all those cute inner-city kids taught their coach a valuable lesson,” Dawn replied.

“You know that I will always be there for you, right?” Tara said bluntly.

Dawn looked at her, her smile wavering.

“There, there was actually more of a lead-in when I practiced that at home,” Tara confessed.

“I know.”

“It's just...I wanted you to know that my moving out had nothing to do with you, and I, I will never stop loving you.”

“I know.” Dawn said again. “Do you think you'll ever get back together?”

“I wish I knew.”

“But you still love her.”

“Very much. I just...sometimes...other things get in the way.”

“I know. Buffy was talking to me about...things like that.”

“Oh? How is Buffy...coping?”

“Not so swell I guess...she wasn’t leaving the bathroom last time I checked. Maybe Willow managed to coax her out.”

Tara nodded and both girls fell silent at the mention of Willow's name.

“Uh, she's been doing a lot better lately. She's been really good about...being careful...a-about stuff,” Dawn said though her milkshake.

“Buffy?”

“Willow.”

“Well, good. Great, that's...that's great.”

--= =-- --= =-- --= =--

“Hello! We're home!” Dawn called into her empty house a few hours later.

”Looks like no one's here,” Tara commented as she flicked on the light.

Dawn wandered into the kitchen to find any clues. There we go: two notes stuck to the refrigerator.

“Willow says she’s gone schooling and Buffy’s gone patrolling/Bronzing. Well...it’s better than moping in the bathroom,” Dawn said as Tara came up behind her.

“That’s a little harsh. We don’t really know what she’s going through,” Tara said as Dawn took her arm and pulled her into the living room.

“Well then I, I should really get back,” Tara said, eying the sunset out the window.

“Or, you can stay and wait for them,” Dawn said perkily as she sat on the couch. “Then you can get a chance to catch up with...everyone.”

”Yeah, I-I don't think that's such a great idea.”

“Okay. Your call,” Dawn said feigning nonchalance and picked up the TV remote. “I have the TV to keep me company until they get back.”

Tara rolled her eyes. “What about April?”

“Willow’s hooked her up to her computer. Again. So she’s out of commission for a few days.”

Dawn looked up at Tara with huge eyes.

“Fine. I'll stay, but just until they get back. And only to make sure that you're not alone, this...has nothing to do with...anyone else,” Tara said though she was secretly hoping Willow would be home soon. Tara missed her.

“Sure. Cool. Up to you.”

Dawn snuggled up next to Tara and lay her head on Tara’s shoulder. Tara smiled and they both turned their attention to the TV.

--= =-- --= =-- --= =--

Buffy stared forlornly into the plastic cup of alcohol. She wished that the bartender had given her a bottle so she could cradle it and wallow in her misery properly.

/Spike probably has a bottle./

Whether it’s the alcohol or the tense rein she’d been keeping on herself lately, this final thought snapped something.

While looking down into her plastic cup of alcohol, Buffy started crying.

--= =-- --= =-- --= =--

Spike leaned his back against the far side of the stone sarcophagus, so that he was hidden from the sight of the front door. His duster lay next to him, several bottles of beer nestled in it.

He let the alcohol numb his throat, turn his thoughts apathetic. He drank until he realized he hadn’t picked up enough booze to get himself drunk, and then fell asleep to try and forget about how quiet his tomb of a home sounded.

--= =-- --= =-- --= =--

Willow noted the open front door and the lights that had been switched on as she entered the Summers’ residence.

Closing the door behind her quietly, she moved into the living room and smiled at the sight of Tara and Dawn fast asleep on the couch.

She easily located the remote on the far side of Dawn’s blanket-covered figure and clicked the TV off. She turned and stood there, watching them for a moment before moving forward to shake Tara on the shoulder.

“Tara. Tara!”

“Hmm?” She said as her eyes drifted open. “Oh. Sorry. God, I just closed my eyes for a minute.”

Willow chuckled as Tara stood up and stretched. This shift caused Dawn to stir.

Tara leaned down to wake Dawn up.

“Come on sweetie. Head upstairs to bed now, okay?”

Dawn gave a drowsy smile and nodded, her eyelids drooping. She hugged the blanket that Tara had put around her earlier closer and groggily made her way upstairs, directly to her bedroom. She figured she’d just brush her teeth in the morning.

Alone with one another, each Wiccan suddenly found herself tongue-tied.

“How are you?” Willow said. /Could this get any more awkward?/

”Fine, thanks, I'm...I'm fine. I, how are you?” Tara stuttered.

“Great! I mean...Fine. I'm, I'm ... finey McFine. Fine,” Willow said with a flickering smile.

“Well. I should probably...” Tara began and indicated the door.

“Oh, yeah, great. You should,” Willow said embarrassed.

Tara nodded and looked down as she walked toward and opened the door. She could feel Willow’s pleading eyes watching her.

Standing in the door frame, Tara turned around.

“Do you want...uh...We should have some coffee some time,” Tara suddenly said nervously. “Uh, maybe some day...this week after class?”

“I'm free tomorrow,” Willow said with a small smile. “Uh, you could, you could bring a friend...if you know, you want--”

“I wasn't gonna--I--I mean, if you have a friend--”

“No! I'm, oh, I-I'm friendless,” Willow said quickly.

“Yeah, yeah, no friends,” Tara said quickly. “I--I mean, I have friends--”

“Right, many dear friends, yeah.”

They both laughed and fidgeted nervously.

“Coffee,” Tara said with a sigh and a smile.

“With us. Who are...just friends,” Willow said shyly and both nodded at each other, content as friends. For now at least.

--= =-- --= =-- --= =--

Buffy’s undead state prevented her from getting far past tipsy. She wasn’t sure if this was a good or a bad thing.

As she walked up the path to her house, an achingly familiar tingle raced up her spine. She stopped, half-way to her house, and turned her head toward the large oak tree.

“Spike,” she whispered, the breeze carrying her voice.

He materialized quietly from the tree’s shadow but unlike other times when he had appeared with a smirk and a cigarette; his eyes were sad but focused on her.

Drawn by an unknown magnetic force, they quickly eliminated the small distance between them. Leaning forward, their lips gently met. His hands snaked up her arms to her shoulders. The kiss grew deeper but before it sped by the blurred point of no return, Buffy pulled back.

“I don’t know if we can do this,” she said, her voice barely audible. Her eyes had opened and were focused on his face and then met his eyes when he raised them after this remark.

“Why in bleedin' hell not?” He said hoarsely.

She shook her head, trying to shake off the tears and the lump in her throat that were quickly forming.

“I just...I don’t trust you. I don’t trust my demon around you.”

Spike was stunned and slightly hurt. He let his hands drop back down to his sides.

“What the hell have I done to make you not trust me? How many times have I saved Dawn’s life? Your own?”

“That’s not it! I trust you with my life. And my sister’s life. But...you want me to be your dark princess and I can’t be that. I’ll hurt someone.” By now the tears had began to leak out of her eyes and down her cheeks. Taking a deep breath for comfort rather than necessity, she said: “I’m not Drusilla.”

Spike looked at her incredulously.

“You think I want you to be Drusilla? What, are you shrink wrapped? I just want you. Buffy. I’ll try not to make you wicked and immoral, whatever you want. It's one hell of a switch but I miss you. You’re all I’ve got left. You’re life for me.”

She looked fiercely away through her tears. How could she be his life when she could barely grasp her own? And she didn’t know if she liked the idea of acting as life for them both. And besides...

“I’m dead,” she said harshly before determinedly finishing the distance between herself and the front door.

“I know you, Slayer! You’ll come back,” he yelled at her backside before she slammed the door. He didn’t see that as soon as Buffy closed the door she collapsed, still gripping the doorknob, as her tears ran freely. She covered her mouth to muffle her sobs.

“You have to,” he whispered sadly to the night.





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