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Three weeks passed by more quickly than Buffy would’ve thought possible. She wasn’t happy by a long shot—the whole gang was little saddened by the death of Tara’s grandmother—but things were getting better. It was funny how even though she and Spike’s post-breakup hostility had lasted for only three days, they were way more miserable than the next three weeks.

He hadn’t read too much into the kiss, something for which Buffy was devoutly grateful. If she’d kissed most of the guys in school the way she did Spike, they would’ve been pawing all over her. But Spike seemed to know that it was equal parts apology and mutual comfort.

And now that she thought of it, that was part of the problem. They were almost, but not quite, friends. Buffy seriously suspected that they could never be just friends. They’d shared waay too much to pretend their relationship was platonic.

So they had stilted conversations and tried to how horny they both were. At the end of each day, Buffy would clench her fists and fight to stay away from him, to keep from running to the cemetery, where she knew he’d be.

To say it wasn’t easy would have been the absolute biggest understatement of the century.

Now it was Thanksgiving. They’d been on vacation for almost a week, but since the gang met at the Bronze or the mall every day, Buffy had still gotten her (in her opinion, way unhealthy) daily dose of Spike. She sighed.

They still talked like friends, but their conversations were different. There was no banter, no word play, no innuendos—not that she missed those—no, not her! She didn’t miss them a single bit!

Well, okay. She did. But only in a life-wasn’t-normal-without-them kind of way, not a they-made-her-tingly-all-over way.

Right, Buffy. You really are the queen of self-delusion, aren’t you?

Yeah, that would be her. Little Miss Self-Delusion, in the flesh and currently procrastinating like mad so that she wouldn’t have to enter her house and begin the nightmare that was a Summers Thanksgiving.

“Buffy? Are you coming?”

“Yeah! Gimme a sec!” Buffy called back.

Over the past 3 weeks, her mom and dad had fought constantly. Joyce was expecting to get divorce papers any day now, and she kept badgering Hank about signing them. More often than not, Buffy and Dawn had gone out together to eat just to avoid the yelling—though things had been quiet for about a day now.

The fighting sucked some serious ass, but for Buffy it actually wasn’t as bad as it had been in years past, because now she knew that only one of her parents hated her guts instead of both of them.

Okay. So it could’ve been way better. But then, it could’ve been a whole lot worse, too.

“Buffy? Are you even listening to me?”

“Huh? Oh—yeah, Mom!” Buffy called back into the house hurriedly. “I’ll be right there!”

She sighed. Why can’t Thanksgiving be a friend thing? she wondered petulantly. Or better yet, an ex-couple with some serious history thing?

“Buffy?” Dawn appeared in the doorway of their house. “You do realize Mom’s going to kill you very dead if you don’t come inside and eat?”

“I know.” Buffy stood up from the front step, brushing off her jeans, and made a face at her little sister. “She’s being so neurotic about it…”

“She says she has big news,” Dawn offered as they went inside. “Although considering what’s been going on lately, I’m kind of scared to know what it is.”

“Tell me about it.” Buffy lowered her voice as they neared the kitchen. “I mean, she and Dad haven’t fought in a full twenty-four hours. What’s up with that?”

“I dunno. Maybe they decided they love each other after all,” Dawn said sarcastically.

Buffy just rolled her eyes.

“Oh, hi, kids!” Joyce said, beaming.

“Hi,” they mumbled.

“Here. Take these out to the dining room and then sit down, okay?” Joyce handed Buffy and Dawn a covered dish each. “We’re ready to eat.”

Buffy could almost feel her heart beating double time as she carried the dish out. She was sure this dinner was going to be even worse than usual.

She was right. They’d barely started eating before Joyce put down her fork and said matter-of-factly, “Kids, I have an announcement to make.”

Buffy and Dawn exchanged uh-oh looks. Here we go…

“Your father and I have reached an agreement. We sent my lawyer the signed divorce papers yesterday!”

~*~

Thinking back, Buffy knew that she’d acted pretty stupidly. She really shouldn’t have spilled her wine all over the white tablecloth and blurted out, “What the friggin’ hell?”

And when her father berated her for her language, she really, really shouldn’t have stood up and called him an arrogant asshole.

But she was pretty sure that the worst mistake of all was when she lost her temper and kneed him in the balls so hard that he’d fallen, hit his head on the table, and passed out.

Not that any of that had really gotten her in trouble. Her mother had been watching with a slight smile on her face. Buffy knew that she didn’t have to be roaming the streets of Sunnydale at 5 o’clock on Thanksgiving Day. It was getting dark and more than a little cold.

But she couldn’t bear to stay in the same house with her mother. Buffy loved Joyce, she really did, but right now was insanely angry with her, because who the hell thought that announcing a divorce at Thanksgiving dinner was a good idea?

Buffy sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. She was trying not to be self- pity gal, but she was all alone on Thanksgiving. It was like Suckfest 2005, or something. God, I wish Spike was here.

If she had a dollar for every time she thought that, Bill Gates would have competition for most annoyingly rich person in the world.

But annoying repeating aside, it sounded like a good idea. Wait—no, not good idea. Bad idea! Veryveryvery bad!

But she’d already thought of it, and part of her—namely, her body—thought it was a really good idea. So Buffy’s feet carried her to Spike’s house, and then her hand—her horrible, treasonous hand—reached up and knocked on the front door!

Unfortunately for her, there was a long enough pause between when she knocked and when the door opened for her to completely freak out over what she was doing.

When she saw who stood there, she had to fight to not pass out from terror.

Spike’s mother, Dr. Walsh, pursed her wrinkled lips at Buffy. “What are you doing here?”

“I…um…is Spike here? I mean, are you guys having dinner?”

“Our family does not believe in the absurdity that is Thanksgiving. I believe he is down at that Bronze place with his friends. Good night.”

Buffy was left blinking at the door that had just been slammed in her face.

She sighed and walked down the steps. Some Thanksgiving I’m having…

“Stalker.”

Buffy yelped and immediately clamped her hands over her mouth in embarrassment. “Dawn!”

“Well, you are,” her little sister said, unperturbed. “I mean, I thought you and Spike were all—you know—not going out.”

“We are,” she stuttered. “I just—I mean—it’s complicated, okay?” Irritated, she started walking again.

“Complicated. Right.” Unfazed, Dawn trailed after her. “It’s simple. You’re completely in love with him.”

Buffy chose to be silent. How was she going to answer that, anyway? It was the truth and she knew it.

“I’m right, aren’t I? I knew I was right.” Dawn’s voice was satisfied. “Which leads to this question—you broke up with him why?”

Buffy took a deep breath. It’s illegal to kill your sister in California, isn’t it? Damn. “Dawn, I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“Because you’re scared,” Dawn shot back.

Buffy reached her breaking point. “Yes, I’m scared, okay?” she yelled, whirling around to face her younger sister. “Look at Mom and Dad, would you? Mom loves Dad and he’s still the biggest asshole in the world to her! If I stay with Spike, we could end up just like that! We probably will, and it’ll be my fault because I was too dumb to break up with him before it was too late!”

Dawn stood very, very still throughout her sister’s tirade. When Buffy was finished, she said very calmly, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Well, okay. Buffy knew that. But—“You’re thirteen. What the hell do you know?”

“I know that not all loves are like that, Buffy, okay? Janice’s parents have been married for twenty years and they’re still totally in love. We keep walking in on them making out, which hello, gross in a big way, but they’re clearly happy! Why are you convinced you can’t have that?”

“Because Mom doesn’t,” Buffy admitted quietly.

Maybe Thanksgiving was like Halloween and it was all magical, but no one had bothered to tell her. Or maybe she was just super-weird. Whatever it was, all of a sudden, she felt like the biggest idiot on the face of the planet.

For three weeks she’d been berated herself for being a coward, for not being strong enough to brave the heartbreak with Spike. She had refused to believe that maybe there wouldn’t be constant heartbreak to brave.

Because Mom doesn’t. How dumb was that, anyway? Was it written in stone somewhere that her mother’s life determined how hers was going to be? And even if it was—hey, Buffy was failing English. She sure as hell didn’t have to pay attention.

Dawn was still lecturing. “And you know, I think you broke up with him because you know there’s a chance of turning out like mom, not because you think you’re definitely going to. It’s a matter of making a choice—are you ready or not? Because if you’re not, I’m going to kick your butt. I so do not want to have to be the first person to get married and do the happily ever after thing just to prove it’s possible.”

Buffy stared at her sister in wonder. Faith, Cordelia, Spike, her own not-so-bright conscience—all of them had failed to make her see sense. But Dawn had, and at that moment, Buffy had never loved her more.

“Oof!” Dawn gasped as Buffy enveloped her in a hug. “What’s this for?”

“For being a great sister,” Buffy said, her voice muffled in Dawn’s shoulder. “I love you so much, did you know?”

Dawn smiled slightly. “Yeah.”

“Good.” She took a deep breath. Okay, Buffy. You can do this. “See you later.” She began to jog away as quickly as her skirt would allow.

“What are you doing?” Dawn called after her.

Buffy smiled—a true, genuine, happy smile. “Making a choice!” she yelled back, laughing.

Dawn was dancing all the way to Janice’s house.

~*~

A/N: I stole the whole “written in stone” thing from Prophecy Girl—I thought it fit well ;) And I know I said no more angst, but wasn’t Buffy kneeing Hank in the balls worth it? Don’t worry, the next chap is pretty much all fluff. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews telling me what you guys think of this fic!





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