Bruises and cuts.  Swelling.  Blood.  It was all she could see.  Faintly, she heard a woman shouting desperately, harsh words meant to cut deeper than the blows that landed on his face.  Over and over again she heard the crack of fist meeting bone.  It was endless, brutal.  She felt the warmth of her own tears streaking down her face from the pain she was feeling, and the pain she knew she was causing. 

 

Just when it seemed that it would never end, she felt herself stop.  Letting her fists fall to his chest, she took in the face she had broken.  He had long since changed back into his human face, showing her exactly how much damage she’d done.  She shook her head in disbelief, causing more tears to fall.  Quiet whimpers escaped her mouth.  She heard him say something, his normally deep, velvet voice sounding strained and weak to her ears.  She had to get away from him… from what she’d done.  Pushing herself up, her eyes focused on him as she backed away. 

 

When she finally broke her gaze and turned around to walk properly, she ran into someone.  Rearing back, she looked into his blue eyes in surprise.  His face was clear, unharmed by her angry beating.  When she tried to back away from him again, he grabbed her upper arms, holding her firmly in place. 

 

“You can’t run away from this anymore,” he spoke calmly. 

 

After a moment, she responded hesitantly, “From what?”

 

His only response was to smile, running his hands up and down her arms.   One finally slid up to her cheek to pull her in for a soft, but breathtaking kiss.  She sighed, allowing the contact, needing it.  When he pulled away, her forehead touched his, letting herself feel his love for a moment.  As she felt her heart warming, a small smile slid across her lips.  She continued to bask in these forbidden emotions until she felt a wetness fall slowly down her face.  Pulling away in confusion, she brought her hand to her face to touch the liquid, bringing it back around to her gaze. 

 

“Blood?” she said in confusion, looking back up to his face.  What she saw made her gasp and jump back.   The wounds she’d inflicted were back, only they were even worse than before.  “No…” she whispered, shaking her head.  She looked at the ground, revulsion toward the sight of his face making it hard to her to even glance at him.  When she heard him let out a mirthless chuckle though, she slowly looked back up.  He stopped smiling when their eyes met, and grew serious, gazing at her with all the intensity she knew him to have.  He touched his face, and brought his bloody hand to grasp hers firmly.  Pulling her now blood covered hand away, she stared in horror as he spoke.

 

“You always hurt the one you love, pet.”

 

Buffy shot straight up in bed, breathing raggedly.  She put a hand to her chest, and then to her face, feeling the wetness of the real tears she’d shed in the night.  “Oh, Spike…” she whispered quietly, remembering her dream.  Wiping her face, and taking one last deep breath, she got out of bed, knowing what she had to do. 

 

~*~*~*~

 

You can do this, Buffy.  You can do this.   Taking a deep breath that did nothing for her nerves, she rapped her knuckles lightly on the door.  Her inner mantra had been on repeat since she’d left her house, intent on finding Spike, and making sure he was okay.  She owed him an apology.  Of course, she knew she couldn’t make things better with a couple sincere words.  She just had no idea how she could possibly earn his forgiveness for what she’d done to him.  His door swung open, cutting off her thoughts.

 

For a moment, neither said anything.  Buffy took in his appearance, noticing with some relief that he looked much better.  His right eye was still swollen, but the gash on his cheek had closed.  When she realized he was speaking, she focused on his voice.

 

“Buffy.  Wasn’t expecting it to be you,” he casually leaned against the doorway, folding his arms across his chest.

 

“Were you expecting someone else?” She tried to keep any hint of jealousy out of her voice.  If he caught it, he didn’t show it.  He stood back up, turning away from her, walking back into his home.

 

“No, it’s just the first time you’ve ever knocked,” he said in a tone that could have been teasing had the tension not been so thick.  When she didn’t respond, he stopped at a sarcophagus, looking at her form expectantly.  “Was there something in particular you were wanting, love?  I know my face isn’t so pretty tonight, but other parts of me are working just fine,” he smirked.

 

At that, Buffy stiffened.  “No.  I’m not here for that.  I just…” she stopped talking for a moment, and watched his smirk fall to a frown.  She finally stepped into his crypt, making her way over to the green chair, keeping her distance.  Not looking at him, she asked, “How are you feeling?”

 

“Pummeled,” he responded dryly, and she winced, not going unnoticed by Spike.  “’M sorry, love.  I feel better.  I’ve had a lot worse.”

 

“I know,” she whispered softly, finally looking up at him, showing him the unshed tears in her eyes.  “I’m sorry, Spike.  I know that doesn’t make up for it, but…”

 

Spike made his way over to her slowly as she continued.  “I just got so caught up in everything that happened.  I guess I let the anger get the best of me, and then everything you said…”

 

When she said that, he stopped and abruptly cut her off.  “Oh save it, Buffy.   We both know you weren’t beating me up because of anything I did,” he said, giving her a sad, but knowing look.  When she returned it with a confused one, he elaborated.  “You’re angry.  You hate this world, hate that you were torn from the one place you ever felt any peace.  But knowing that your friends want you to be someone you can’t be anymore makes you hate yourself.  You’re angry at yourself for failing them, and for feeling the way you do.”

 

“And I suppose you know how I feel?” she asked indignantly, forgetting her guilt for a moment.

 

Spike looked at her with honest eyes, taking slow steps toward her.  “Dirty.  Evil.  You think you’re a monster, Buffy.  You can’t be who you were, and your friends won’t accept who you are.  You feel like you’re nothing because you’re not either or.  You can whack me back and forth all you like, but you can’t fool me.  I know as well as you do that every word you spat at me last night was just a fabrication of how you feel about yourself .”

 

By the time he stopped talking, he’d made it all the way over to her place by the chair, to the point where his face was inches away from hers.  Not once did he break eye contact with her, determined to make her finally see what she was putting herself through.  The silence as he waited for her to react to his words was deafening to him, but he refused to back down.  He could see the emotions warring in her eyes; anger, defiance, confusion, sadness, and finally, belief. 

 

The second his words truly sunk in, he saw her walls crumble.  Tears flooded her eyes, and a sob wretched through her body as she collapsed.  He caught her in time before she hit the ground, and slowly, he brought her to the floor, holding her tightly to his body.  She didn’t even seem to notice his hold on her, though, as he whispered softly to her and ran his fingers through her hair.  Her sobs were more like screams to his sensitive ears, but he only winced for knowing how broken she must be inside. 

 

She needed this, he told himself.  The pain she was going through was tearing her apart, and he’d feared if she didn’t let it out soon, it’d kill her.  As much as it hurt him to see her like this, he could only hope that it was a step toward her feeling better, toward her finding some semblance of peace in the world she’d been forced back into.

 

He knew he could only do so much for her, but he was resolute in doing every single thing in his power to make sure she got through it.  For now, though, he could only hold her.  And so he did, for the rest of the night.

~*~*~*~

A/N: Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you thought... -hint, hint- ; )

She didn’t know when exactly he’d moved them from their position on the floor to his bed in the lower level of the crypt. It didn’t matter to her, though. The few thoughts that crossed her mind throughout the night had been so strong and consuming that there was little room for her to think about anything else. She wasn’t even aware of the amount of time she’d spent in his arms, sobbing herself to exhaustion, releasing her heart from its self-inflicted constraints. It all had made her tired, desperately so. She felt like she hadn’t slept in weeks, which, she mused, was probably pretty accurate considering her post-postmortem insomnia.

Realizing she must have dozed off for a while, she began to stir. Her eyes felt dry and scratchy, and she could feel the drenched cloth of Spike’s t-shirt under her cheek as proof of her breakdown. Her entire body, she realized as she shifted a bit, felt sore and stiff from hours of not moving. Spike had had her wrapped securely in his arms the whole time, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other stroking her hair while her head rested on his chest. A part of her took comfort in the safety he’d provided her, enough of her to allow him to continue doing so for a while after she woke up. Eventually, though she admitted to herself the position was comfortable, her muscles demanded movement.

Placing her hands on Spike’s chest, she gently pushed herself back, glancing at his face to see if he was awake. He was.

“Hey, pet,” he said softly. He offered her a bit of a smile.

“Hey,” she responded with a raspy whisper. Her throat was a little rough from crying. “What time is it?”

“Few minutes before dawn. You’ve been asleep for hours.”

Frowning, she looked at the dark stain on his shirt, touching it and feeling the evidence of her tears. He seemed to understand the unspoken question. “Didn’t help you to stop…”

She found herself looking into his eyes, as she often did. She could always read him the best when she looked into his eyes. Usually she saw his lust and passion, and every now and then the love he had for her would force its way to the surface for a fraction of a second. In that second, she’d look away from him, and either hit him or run away. Sometimes both.

But now, looking into his eyes, she could see underlying sadness and understanding, but most of all, love. He made no attempt to hide it, and for some reason, she made no attempt to push him away. Maybe it was because of what she’d done to him. Or maybe it was because of what he’d done for her in return. Or maybe… she didn’t let herself finish that thought, instead began to push herself out of his arms so she could sit up. She felt him tighten his hold on her for an almost imperceptible moment, before releasing her altogether. Gingerly, she stretched her legs and arms out, rolling her neck to relieve some of the tension there. Rubbing her eyes for a moment, she finally looked back to Spike.

“How did you know? The things you said last night… about me… how did you know?”

Seeing her perplexed expression, he shrugged. “I recognize in you a lot of the things I see in myself.”

Buffy frowned. “I’m not like you.”

Spike chuckled mirthlessly and shook his head. “No, pet, you’re not. Not in the way you’re thinking anyway. I’m meant to be in the shadows. You’re meant for the light. But the one thing we have in common is that neither of us is in one or the other.”

She said nothing, but he knew she understood him. Giving her a reassuring smile, he tentatively took her hand. “You see? We’re more alike that you think.”

In that moment, she felt herself truly connect to Spike in a way she’d never connected to anyone before. Her heart warmed, and her eyes felt fixed on his. Electricity seemed to spark from their joined hands, and she felt it go up her arm and throughout her body. She knew exactly what she felt, and exactly what he was feeling. For an instant, she wasn’t alone. And it terrified her. Jerking her hand away, she stood up, ignoring the protest of her stiff muscles at the quick movement, and stepped away from the bed. Away from Spike.

“I am not like you.” She spat at him, shakily.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Both seemed shocked at the sudden change of mood. Once her words settled in, Spike was quick to act. In a flash he was off the bed and right in front of Buffy, glaring resolve in his eyes.

“Neither of us can help the things that were done to bring us here. I didn’t ask for this chip in my head and you sure as hell didn’t ask to be brought back. And now we’re both stuck in this bloody limbo, but you won’t even admit that to yourself, will you?”

He took a step closer to her and continued, not giving her a chance to respond. “There is nothing I can do about this chip. It’s in my head for sodding good now. But you…”

He looked down, a moment of clarity striking him. “You could make it out of this,” he whispered, too quietly for her to hear. Looking up at her, he gave her a pleading look. “Buffy…”

He reached out a hand to cup her cheek, but she jerked away from him the instant their skin touched, solidifying the need for what he was about to do. Nodding solemnly, he returned his gaze to the ground, speaking softly, but firmly. “Don’t come to me again until you tell your friends about us.”

Buffy paled at his words, not believing she’d heard him right. “What?”

He looked up at her determinedly. “You want to atone for what happened in that alley the other night? This is my price. Tell your friends about us. Until then, don’t come around.”

The world slowed around her. It felt like everything was at a standstill. She couldn’t tell her friends about her and Spike. There was no way they’d understand. They’d only judge and look down on her. But what was there to understand, anyway? She and Spike didn’t have anything together. So why did the thought of never being with him again make her feel like she couldn’t breathe?

Her mind was running in circles, he could tell from the way she was looking at him. He knew that it should give him hope that he was doing the right thing, but he was terrified. Still, he held his resolve, not allowing her to see his indecision. After moments that felt like hours, she nodded and walked away.

He stayed motionless until he heard the door to his crypt shut with a squeak. Closing his eyes slowly, he let air flow through his nostrils and into his lungs, trying to calm himself. Opening his eyes, he walked over a table that held a bottle of Jack Daniels and a table lamp. Stopping in front of the bottle of alcohol, he smiled humorlessly. He reached a hand toward the bottle, but quickly changed its direction, grabbing the lamp and smashing it against the wall with a roar. Paying no mind to the shattered lamp, he grabbed his bottle of JD and took a long pull of the fiery liquid. He made his way over to the bed and plopped down. He took another swig of his whiskey as he sat, deep in thought.

That night had been the best of his life. To hold her, to be able to comfort her. She’d actually slept in his arms. But the second she was reminded of what was holding her back from him, she pushed him away, and rejected his attempt to help. She was beyond the point of anyone holding her hand through this. She would have to figure it out for herself. He hoped to whatever god would listen to him that he’d done the right thing. He prayed that it wouldn’t blow up in his face.

Sunlight peeked through the trees on Revello Drive, the glimmering rays dancing across the path that Buffy walked on.  The sky was tinged with a pinkish hue as the night sky welcomed the oncoming day.  Buffy usually loved this part of the day.  She’d feel the cool night air being warmed by the morning light, and the eerie feeling of nighttime would dissipate into calm and security.  When daylight cast away the night, she could return home and sleep peacefully knowing that the world was still turning, and she had done her job.

 

But this time, though she felt the sunrays warm her cheeks, it did little to warm the chill she felt inside.  She knew loneliness; it was a friend of hers, even.  It was why she’d gone to him in the first place, to make her feel something, or to make her feel less of something else.  The calm she felt when she was with him was temporary, but it was that bit of forbidden time that kept her sane. 

 

But then her painstakingly enforced morals would kick in, and she’d remember just what she was doing.  He was everything she was against.  She shouldn’t be with him.  No matter how close she came to being okay.  It was with those thoughts she was able to run away from him every time he tried to get close.  It was those thoughts that told her just how low and dirty she’d become.  She knew of their constant presence in her mind.

 

She just wasn’t sure whose thoughts they were anymore.

 

Sighing, she made the final steps to her front door, entering as quietly as possible.  She made her way up the stairs, suddenly exhausted from the roller coaster the past 12 hours had been.  At the top of the stairs, she came face to face with her sister’s bedroom door.  A brief moment of panic came over her at the realization that she’d been gone the entire night.  She knew that Willow had been with her all night, but the relationship between her best friend and her little sister had been strained at best as of late.  Dawn’s trust in Willow had all but evaporated since her injury, and therefore so had Buffy’s confidence in the redhead’s ability to watch over her sister.

 

To make sure she was alright, Buffy stepped up to the door and, as silently as she could, turned the knob.  Just as she was about to push the door open, it was yanked out of her grasp and she met the eyes of a very awake, very annoyed little sister.

 

“If you were gonna try to sneak in without me noticing after disappearing last night, you should really work on your stealth.  I heard you clunking around when you left.”  Dawn raised an eyebrow and folded her arms across her chest.  “Where were you?  Turning yourself in for something you didn’t do again?”

 

Buffy inwardly cringed and shook her head.  “Dawn, you know that it would have been the right thing to do.  If I’d thought there was any other way, I would have tried it.”

 

The younger Summers didn’t budge.  “Whatever.  You didn’t answer my question.  Where’d you go?”

 

“I was…”  Buffy considered lying, claiming the always buyable excuse of ‘patrolling,’ but something held her back.  She and her sister were on such bad terms already, she didn’t want to make things worse by lying to Dawn when she knew her sister always saw right through her bull.

 

But throwing out her and Spike’s true nightly activities was a little too much for her to admit.  She decided that if Dawn was to ever find out about it, she’d find out the right way.

 

So, she settled for saying, “I had to go see Spike.  We had a… misunderstanding about what happened the other night.  It ended badly, and I felt I should apologize for it.”

 

There.  That was just the right amount of honest with just enough vague to-

 

“Oh my god.  You’re the one who beat him up, aren’t you?”  Dawn’s voice rose in volume, but lowered in tone.  Buffy’s eyes widened.

 

“How do you even know about that?”

 

Dawn rolled her eyes.  “Hello.  Just because Spike doesn’t come to see me anymore doesn’t mean I don’t go to see him.  I went to his crypt yesterday.”  Dawn’s brow furrowed.  “He said it was a demon, but it wasn’t… was it?” Her tone was accusing.

 

Buffy could only look down, too ashamed to answer.  But Dawn persisted.

 

“You did that to him, didn’t you?”  Her voice shook with unshed tears and outrage, and she laughed bitterly.  “How could you?  God, no wonder he never comes here anymore.”

 

Tears flooded Buffy’s eyes, and she looked up.  “Dawn…” she began shakily.  “I didn’t mean for it to go that far.  He knows that.  I apologized to him.”

 

“Oh yeah, ‘cause that makes it all better, right?”  The teen bit out sarcastically.

 

“No, of course not, but…”

 

“You know what?  I don’t want to listen to you anymore,” she practically shouted, effectively stopping her sister from speaking.  “You keep doing this, Buffy.  You keep pushing people away, and hurting them for not backing down.  Pretty soon it’s gonna get so messed up that when you finally do want someone in your life, everyone will have finally given up on you.”

 

By now, Buffy’s tears had overflowed and fallen to her cheeks.  She shook her head in disbelief at what her sister was saying, or more, that Dawn was saying it.  She wanted to yell at her, tell her she had no right to say those things to her.  But she knew she couldn’t, because all the things she’d said were true.  She was losing everyone, one by one.  What little she’d offered them was fading away.  Even her own sister was starting to lose faith in her.  And it was all her doing.

 

Buffy’s bright eyes met Dawn’s, and she slowly lifted her hand to touch her sister’s face.  “I’m sorry.  For everything I’ve been putting you through.  I’m going through a lot right now, but you, of all people in the world, don’t deserve to suffer for it.  I want to get better for you.  I love you.”

 

At those words, Dawn’s anger melted, leaving only a knowing sadness in her blue eyes that reminded Buffy too much of the one she’d seen in Spike's earlier.  Right before he’d…

 

“I love you, too, Buffy.  You’re my sister.  But I just don’t believe your words anymore.  If you really want to get better, then you’re going to have to show it.  I wanna be here for you, but I can’t do that if you don’t really want it.”

 

Buffy nodded profusely, terrified of losing her sister.  “Of course.  We’ll work this out, Dawnie.  I’ll do better.”

 

Dawn covered her sister’s hand, and gave it a light squeeze before bringing it down.  “When I see it.”

 

Buffy bit back a sob as her sister dropped her hand and disappeared into her room.  She stood outside the door a minute, letting out a breath.  She held back her tears, not feeling worthy to shed them anymore.  How had her life become so screwed up?  Well, she could answer that one in two words: resurrection spell.  The real question was… how had she let herself stay like this?

 

She had to do something about it.  It was far past time for her to get her act together and start coming back to life.  If only it was as simple as making a wish.   She sighed inwardly in defeat, not ready to face the world as a human being, but not ready to say she wouldn’t try.  Not one or the other.  In Limbo, as Spike put it.

 

Somewhere in her thoughts, her feet had begun moving, and she found herself in her bedroom.  Staring at her bed, she was reminded of how incredibly exhausted she was.  Falling onto the bed, she grabbed Mr. Gordo from among her throw pillows, holding onto him tightly, hoping vainly that her old stuffed pig would ward out the sadness and emptiness that came with being completely alone.  Curling herself into a protective ball, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep.  The last sound she heard was the birds’ joyous chirping as daylight chased away the last traces of nighttime finally disappeared from sight, and she’d never felt darker in her life.

“I think they’re all demons.” Willow said, pouting.

Dawn looked up from her orange juice in confusion. “Huh?”

The red head was standing at the stove, attempting to fold an omelet in half. “I keep trying to get this half over to the other half but it just flops back over onto the pan,” she grumbled, trying again and failing... again. “I’ve seen the chefs on TV do this a million times, and they never had any problems folding their eggs in half. So, either we have evil eggs, or Food Network is really a demon cult set out to destroy the omelet-making hopes and dreams of humankind.”

Dawn pretended to consider the idea. Shaking her head, she answered. “Nah. Martha Stewart probably just donated a bunch of magic spatulas to them.”

“Martha Stewart?” Willow glanced at the other girl. She tried one more time, pressing down on the top of the omelet with her spatula. Unfortunately, she pressed to hard, and the side split open, making more of a sandwich than an omelet. Shrugging, she cut it in half, sliding the two pieces on separate plates and handing one to Dawn.

“Yeah. She’s a witch.” Dawn said matter-of-factly, nibbling on her breakfast.

“She is?” Willow asked curiously as she poured herself a glass of juice.

“Yep. Anya told me.”

“Hmm. I guess it makes sense. I mean who could do that much decoupage without calling on the powers of darkness?” They both laughed. Willow smiled, happy to have the friendly banter with Dawn again. She didn’t want to get her hopes up that maybe Dawn had forgiven her, but she hoped it was a step in the right direction.

The phone ringing cut off her thoughts, and she went to pick it up. “Hello?”

On the other side of the line, Tara answered shakily. “Uh, H-hey Willow.”

“Tara…hi,” Willow said nervously.

“Is Buffy around?”

The red head frowned in slight disappointment. “Um, Buffy? Hang on. I’ll go see if she’s awake.”

She carried the phone up to Buffy’s room, knocking a couple times. “Buffy?”

Inside the room, Buffy groaned at being woken up so soon after falling asleep. She’d just gotten away from the world, why did she have to come back already? She rolled over in an attempt to ignore the person outside her room, but it was to no avail. Whimpering pitifully, she sat up, rubbing her face and putting on her best “I’m not in any way upset” face. “Come in,” she called, hoping she hadn’t sounded as annoyed as she felt.

Willow entered with a strange expression on her face. “Tara’s on the phone. Um, she wants to talk to you.” Handing the phone over, she quickly walked out of the room, closing the door. Buffy frowned at the door, feeling sorry for her friend, knowing how uncomfortable it must have made her to answer Tara’s phone call and have it not be for her.

She brought the device up to her ear. “Hey, Tara.”

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

Her mind instantly flashed back to her conversation with Tara the evening before. The wiccan knew exactly what had been going on between her and Spike, and, while Buffy was terrified of the fact, she was also relieved to have someone to talk to. And Tara, of all her friends, was the one person who wouldn’t judge her for it.

Coming back to the present, Buffy shrugged in response to Tara’s question despite the fact that Tara wasn’t able to see it. “Terrible with a side of hopeless.”

“Oh. Uh… did something happen last night? You know, after we talked?”

She took a deep breath, remembering the past night. “Yeah. A lot happened. Can… can we maybe meet somewhere?”

“Of course. How about the Espresso Pump around noon? We can talk there.”

Closing her eyes in relief, and also a bit of fear, she agreed. “That sounds fine. Thank you, Tara. I’ll see you then.”

They ended the call, and she looked at the clock. Cringing, she realized she’d been asleep for hours longer than it felt. It was already a little past ten in the morning. She forced herself to get out of bed, walking groggily downstairs. The smell of a late breakfast wafting through the house told her that her sister was awake. She bit her lip when she got to the bottom of the stairs, not sure if she was ready to face her so soon after their… confrontation… that morning. But, remembering her words, she knew that running away now would be breaking her promise. She didn’t think she could bear disappointing her again, so she closed her eyes and took a deep breath before turning into the dining room to enter the kitchen.

“Hey guys,” she said as she placed the phone on its receiver. She looked at Dawn’s plate. “Omelet. Yummy. Extra cheese?”

Dawn smiled a little. “Yep.”

Willow grinned. “You Summers women, always with the cheese-loving,” she shook her head in amusement. She focused her attention on the elder of the two. “Morning, Buffy. Sorry I didn’t make you an omelet, too. Dawnie told me you had a late patrol last night, and we didn’t want to wake you up.”

Buffy looked at Dawn, sending her a silent thank you for keeping the truth about her whereabouts between them. The brunette didn’t smile, but didn’t seem too upset about having to lie for her sister, either. “Uh, yeah. It’s alright. I’m not really hungry anyway.”

Willow nodded and turned away from them to do the dishes. In a voice that was meant to sound casual, she asked, “So… how come Tara called?”

“We just made plans to have lunch today.” Seeing how tense Willow was, she tried to step away from a potentially awkward situation. “Speaking of, what all are you guys doing today?”

“Me and Janice are gonna go to the mall for shopping later. If that’s okay, I mean…” Dawn said, looking over at her sister with an unrecognizable expression.

Buffy shrugged. “That sounds fine. Just be home before it gets dark. Oh, and if you’re going to be late, call so I can secretly follow you around to make sure you’re not making out with some vampire,” she teased.

Dawn rolled her eyes lightheartedly. “Please, Buffy. I’m so over vampires. I’m into Fyarl demons now.” When she saw her sister’s eyes bug, she continued. “No sun allergy, no deadness, and hey, instant bodyguard if any baddies attack me.” Scooting off her seat, she laughed at her sister’s frazzled face, and began backing away.

“Okay, well, since you said yes, I’m gonna go get ready. Bye!” With that, she turned and flew full speed out of the room.

Buffy’s mouth opened and closed as her sister disappeared up the stairs. She wasn’t sure what she was more shocked about: that her sister had joked about dating a Fyarl demon or that her sister had joked with her. Finally deciding on the latter, she took in the easy way they’d fallen into their light chatter. She’d barely even had to try this time, and her sister hadn’t made it difficult for her at all. It was almost like they’d never gone through the past seven months at all.

“Is it just me or does she seem extra perky today?” Buffy finally asked in wonder.

Willow leaned onto the island, looking in the direction of where Dawn had gone. “Not just you. We had a pretty good conversation this morning, too. I thought maybe the world turned upside down or something equally as weird.”

Buffy finally turned to Willow. “Um, about Tara…”

“Hey, it’s fine,” the red head waved her hand as if dismissing the conversation. “You guys are friends. Just because we’re not together anymore doesn’t mean you can’t see her. I’m completely okay with it.”

She spoke quickly, making it hard for Buffy to believe her sincerity, which she portrayed in her expression. Willow tried to keep up her calm exterior, but after a few moments, visibly deflated. “Okay, so it’s a little hard, but really, I want you to go.”

Buffy frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Buffy. I promise, I’ll be okay.”

The blond considered her friend for a moment before deciding that she was most likely telling the truth. “Okay, Wills. As long as you’re alright with it.”

Buffy stood up after a moment. “Well, I’d better start getting ready. I should only be gone for a couple hours at the most, so I’ll see you when I get back?”

Willow nodded. “Yep, have fun.”

Buffy smiled at her friend, and then made her way to her bedroom. When she was out of earshot from Willow, she mumbled. “Don’t think fun is the right word.”

~*~*~*~

A/N: Wondering where the heck Spike went? Stick with me! He'll be back very soon :)