Willow's voice was wobbling and Dawn thought she heard a sniffle, "Dawnie, she felt like she had pieces missing. Of… of her soul."

Dawn's gut went cold. "She what?" she gasped, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden.

"I-I mean, that's probably wrong," said Willow, her voice high and frightened, "I mean, I don't think I'm actually touching someone's soul when I do those exercises, a-and I wouldn't want to, I thought that kind of thing was all with the black magics and I don't do that anymore, Dawnie, I don't! But she, Buffy, she felt so… I didn't know what to think, you know, I thought maybe she'd been injured or something, like in a car accident maybe, only not just some fender-bender but really banged up, you know? So I finished up my exercise as fast as I could, and I tried to calm down, you know, and then I called you. Because I'm worried, Dawnie, really worried, what if something terrible has happened, or the First, what if –"

"It's not the First," said Dawn. "At least, I'm pretty sure it's not. She, um. It was daytime and we were out walking and she had… kind of a breakdown…" Her eyes grew wide as she realized. "But she also kept saying 'don't go,' over and over, like maybe something inside her was leaving – and later, tonight I mean, after she calmed down a little – she told me that she'd been able to feel Spike around her and then it was like he was taken away from her. And now," she felt the tears rising again, "now she looks at me and it's like she's dead inside, Willow! She looked at me and it was like when she'd first come back, after she'd been pulled out of Heaven – she just looked so lost, and…"

"Oh, Dawnie…"

"And I'm really afraid she's just gonna give up and die!" Dawn was crying in earnest now, trying to keep quiet for Buffy's sake, her voice raw and hitching on every other breath. "It's like in those folktales where p-people turn their faces to the wall and die, she just lays there on the bed and she's facing the wall, and, and I can't get her to even look at me most of the time and then when she does… when she did, she just looked… a-and before that, when it first happened, she was crying so hard she couldn't even talk, and then she threw up she was crying so much. She cried herself sick, Willow, and now she's just laying there, and I don't know what to do!"

"Shh, Dawnie, shh," said Willow, "it's okay, it'll be okay…"

"No, it's not okay, it's not…"

"Okay, no, but it will be, Dawn, it will be, I promise it will be," said Willow, frantic to soothe her.

"I can't do this," cried Dawn. "I'm… I'm not the grownup, I don't know how to take care of her, and she's hurting so much, Willow, you didn't see…"

"Hey," Willow cut in. Her voice was watery but forceful; Dawn could almost see her putting on her resolve face. "Hey, you won't have to, okay? You say the word and I can be on a plane just like that. I can leave first thing in the morning if there's a flight. If you need me. You won't have to deal with this on your own, Dawn, I swear. And, and Buffy won't either. We'll figure this out, and we'll get through it. We'll get her through it. I swear."

Dawn's eyes closed, and she leaned her forehead against the edge of the doorway. It helped; God, it helped, but even so, she couldn't help but ask, "You really think there's something we can do to fix this?" Her sniffles echoed over the line.

"I think we won't know if we don't look," said Willow. Dawn could hear her taking deep breaths as she fought to clear her head. "We just… we – okay, we need to, to calm down and think."

"Okay," said Dawn. She hunted around for a paper towel, blew her nose. "Okay. 'Cause Buffy needs us, right?"

"That's right, kiddo," said Willow. "And this time we're not gonna let her down, right?"

"Right," said Dawn. Her own deep breath was shaky, but it helped. "Also, not a kid."

"Sorry." Willow's answering chuckle was pretty thin, but it helped, too. "Okay," she said. "Okay. Um. Buffy. We need to put our heads together."

Dawn sat back down on the bar stool, took another deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay, first things first," she said. "Giles. I already talked to him – not about the magic stuff, 'cause I didn't know that part, but I told him I was worried and he said he'd come. He asked if I thought it would help. And I don't know if it'll help, having him here, but at least there will be two of us for Buffy, right?"

"You did good, Dawnie," said Willow – and she might not be a kid anymore, but holy cow that felt good to hear. "I'll call him first thing in the morning, his time, since he still doesn't like to do the email thing, and get him caught up with what I found out."

"Okay," said Dawn. "What else?"

"Well…" Willow began, "Regular stuff, I guess… you know, chicken soup, plenty of quiet, give her whatever she needs. I mean I'd call Xander if I could, but…"

"But Buffy was going on about Spike and even if Xander wanted to he'd have a tough time putting that aside," finished Dawn. "Plus he's in Africa somewhere… ooh! Your coven. Have you talked to them?"

"No, not yet," she replied. "Same time zone as Giles, plus I called you pretty much right after I finished up with my exercise. But Athenea and the rest of them do check their email, so I can drop them a line as soon as I get off the phone with you. Good thinking. I totally want to check out the whole soul thing, and maybe they'll know some more about what I felt from Buffy. Maybe they know ways to help heal something like that."

"You're… you're not gonna try and just fix it, are you?" Dawn asked, carefully. "I mean – I want her to feel better, and I hate that she's hurting so much, but – from what I saw and what you're telling me, this isn't something you can just throw a couple spells at and make it all better, you know?"

"No, you're totally right," said Willow. "And I wasn't even thinking of doing that… but I can't blame you for asking. No, I was thinking that Buffy could maybe use some nice safe healing energy, just to help in general, to support her system, but I don't even want to risk that without knowing more about what she's going through."

"Careful is good," said Dawn. "We can do careful."

"Definitely," said Willow. "Um… I hate to bring it up, but – should we call Angel?"

"No," said Dawn flatly. "Angel hates Spike, and to be honest, even if he didn't I'm not sure he'd be much help for Buffy."

"Are you sure?" Willow asked.

"Pssh-yeah," Dawn snorted. "Even after everything she's been through, he still treats her like she's in high school and needs him to hold her hand, but then whenever things actually get tough he just bails. Usually right about the time that she lets her guard down and starts to lean on him, too." She realized she was still holding her paper towel, and tossed it angrily at the garbage can. Missed. "I love you Buffy, trust me, Buffy, let me in, Buffy – oh, wait, whoops, we can't be together and I'm too weak, it's too hard for me to stick around and make myself useful, look at the time, gotta run, but I'm sorry and I looove you, so that makes it all okay." She tucked the phone up under her ear so she could fold her arms. "Spike was right," she said. "Angel is a git."

There was silence on the line for a moment, then: "Um…wow," said Willow. "I… I guess I never thought about him that way before. I mean, Angelus, sure, he's pretty much the definition of 'horrible' without his soul, but… wow. Are you… is he really like that?"

"Trust me," said Dawn. "The little sister sees all, the little sister hears all, but does anybody ask the little sister what she sees? Does anyone care to know her opinion? Nooo. She's just the little sister, what does she know."

Willow chuckled. "Don't hold back, there, sweetie, tell us how you really feel."

"Heh," said Dawn. She bent down and picked the paper towel off the floor. "Sorry. I'm just tired, I guess. It's just… when they were together, you guys saw everything filtered through Buffy, you know? And sometimes you only saw what she wanted you to see, or maybe what you wanted to see – you know, like Xander could only see 'vampire' and missed everything else. But Buffy's never been any good at hiding that kind of stuff from me. It's part of why I drive her nuts," she grinned. "The little sister knows all… and I'm telling you, this little sister says no Angel unless Buffy specifically asks us to call him. And even then, I'm gonna argue with her."

"Sounds reasonable to me," said Willow.

"Thanks. Besides," Dawn sighed, her moment of humor fading, "some of the things she was saying today… some of it was about – well – about love, and some was how much she's had to give up or had taken away from her, because she was the Slayer. So I think even if Angel did show up, he'd just be a reminder to Buffy, of how messed up she thinks she is."

Buffy didn't want to sleep. She hadn't been doing anything physical to wear herself out, wasn't really tired – at least, not in her body. Her head and her heart were exhausted, but Buffy doubted sleep could really take care of those. On the other hand, feeling like this? No; she didn't really want to be awake, either. Dawn's voice outside her room, murmuring on the phone to whoever, was just the kind of steady background noise that worked every time to knock her right out. It wasn't that her high school history class had been boring so much as Mr. Dinkelman's voice had been so… calming. Calmed her right into a nap, every time.

History class… Sunnydale… Slaying… Buffy's mind wandered from thought to thought, unaware she was falling asleep at all until she found herself out on patrol. Again. God, she couldn't even get away from her duty when she slept. It was chilly out, and the fog was rolling in, even though the stars were out overhead; Buffy zipped up her jacket and sighed. Nothing like a challenge, she thought, giving the vamps and other beasties something else to hide in before leaping out and trying to kill her. Whee. Fun.

Not.

Fog or no fog, it was actually a quiet night for once. Well, of course it was, some part of her mind supplied – the Hellmouth was closed. Nothing would be out in this cemetery, not tonight or any other night, ever again.

No vamps. No beasties.

No Spike…

Buffy pushed the thought away, and kept walking.

After a while, she found a headstone at a comfortable height – polished granite, curved edges – and hoisted herself up to sit. The fog was really thick now, even swirling around her feet where they dangled, just above the damp grass. Thoughtfully, Buffy pulled her stake out of its usual hiding place at the back of her waistband. Hefted it in her hand, feeling the weight of it, the texture of the wood, polished smooth over the years. Ran a fingertip over the whittled end, letting the splinters just tickle her skin without pricking.

I'm not the only Slayer anymore, she thought. There's dozens. Maybe hundreds. I could finally give it up.

I could quit.

Slowly, contemplatively, she brought the stake up and touched it lightly to her chest. Studied the placement, moved the tip over a little. Just over her heart – in between the ribs so it would go in easily – there.

Buffy could hear Spike's voice, from that conversation a couple years ago – "You're just a little bit in love with it… There's a part of you wants to know… what's it like?"

But I already know what it's like, she thought. A moment of pain, yes, but then peace. Finally, peace.

What about Dawn? Another part of her asked. Doesn't Dawn still need you?

No. Not really, she answered herself. Dawn's growing up. There's nothing to keep me here anymore. I can finally leave, if I want to. I can finally go back.

But do you want to? Do you really?

Buffy had been wearing a shirt and jacket, but in the way of dreams, once she had the stake in just the right spot, her clothing vanished and the point rested against bare skin. The damp raised goose bumps along her arms, made her nipples pucker uncomfortably. The fog drifted between the stone markers and wrapped around tree trunks, thicker now as the air cooled. Her hair tickled the back of her neck.

Buffy thought for a moment, pulled the stake in a little, so it dimpled her skin. I don't know. Maybe, she thought. And I'm dreaming, anyway. Ignored the clarity of her perceptions, as she thought that – ignored the texture of the stake in her hand and the granite under her palm, the scent of wet grass and fog, the sight of the stars twinkling overhead. All of this is just a dream. I could do it. I could do this, and still wake up. No harm done. Nothing would really happen. And if it does happen, then… then on the outside, it'll look like I've just gone quietly, in my sleep. Nothing to hurt Dawn, or anyone else.

No one would have to know.

Buffy took a deep breath in and held it. It felt good; the first really cleansing breath she'd had in a long time, it seemed like. Good, she thought. If this is my last breath, then it should feel good.

Is it really your last breath, though? came the question, from that other part of her mind.

I don't know, she replied.

Despite the seriousness of the question, and the stake pushing into her breast, Buffy couldn't help the little half-smile that crossed her face. You never could make up your mind about anything, she told herself. Not the important stuff, anyway. Not until it was too late and all your options were gone.

Yeah, she thought. Point.

You're going to kill yourself with a bad pun? Really?

Puns, quips, and wisecracks, she answered. It's what I do. Anyway, this is just a dream. Doing… that… it doesn't count if you're dreaming.

Buffy pulled harder; the tip of the stake began to hurt. She'd break the skin any second now if she kept the pressure up. She could feel her heartbeat vibrating through the wood in her hand.

Well, this is ouch, she thought to herself. I don't want to be hasty here, but if I'm gonna do this, whether it counts or not, could I maybe just do it and get it over with? Agony is not a requirement.

Buffy brought her other hand up to wrap around the stake. Flexed her fingers, adjusted her grip.

Took another breath, nervous now.

Pulled.