BtVS - Rated M to be safe, but prolly T.
Post S6
I own none of this; it's all Joss, all the time.
She forgot him.
It wasn't like she didn't have other things on her mind. Teaching Dawn to slay, without getting slayed. Relearning the joy of training. Watching her sister develop that same joy, that same love of what they did.
And with him gone, and not able to help her slay, there were that many more vamps to take out. That many more cemeteries to patrol. That many more hours before she could sink into bed for the few precious hours of sleep she managed.
With the nerds gone, and no imminent danger, there was more time to work as well. More hours at the Doublemeat meant more money, more bills paid off, more relaxation, and less fear when the phone rang, or the mail came.
With The Magic Box (once again) under reconstruction, there was work to be done there as well. Helping Anya reorganise the store ... helping Xander rebuild ... helping maintain the brittle, fragile peace which barely existed between the two.
With Giles back (however temporarily), there were things to talk about. Decisions to be made (with his advice, but only advice; she had learned to make her own decisions) ... should she try to go back to college, or just save up for Dawn? Should she keep working at the Doublemeat, or try and find something better? And other things as well ... what did it mean that she was teaching Dawn to be a Slayer? What did it mean that she had made love (for now she could admit, if only to Giles, that what she had shared with Spike was more than just sex) to a vampire? To Spike? What did it mean that she seemed to drive away every man she loved? First Angel, then Riley, and now Spike? And most tellingly, what did it mean that she was more keenly aware of him in his absence than she had ever been in his presence?
There were many other things to think about, many other things on her mind. She couldn't help remembering sometimes of course. Every time she went into the bathroom, and noticed the plastered-over hole in the wall. Every time she patrolled, and went past his cemetery, past his crypt. Every time she walked into The Magic Box and saw Clem helping out with the repairs, or just helping Dawn with her homework. Every time she opened her closet door, and saw his jacket, still hanging there.
And every nite, when she came home, exhausted from her unceasing battle, bruised from some vampire's lucky punch, worn out from too many days and nites of too little rest, and she fell into bed, holding the pillow she had taken from his crypt, the only one left after she and Riley had bombed his home. Every nite, as she held the pillow and inhaled his scent, and wrapped herself in his jacket, and cried silent, wracking sobs for what had been, and could have been, and never was.
Every nite, she remembered him.
And she forgot him. Every day.