Buffy stared out into the night. Hands rested on the window ledge she gazed up at the sky, wondering why she couldn't sleep. She knew it was useless even trying anymore, she never could get to sleep all that would happen is she would lie there staring at the ceiling wishing she was dead. She glanced over to her clock on her nightstand. It read 4.02 am and she sighed, so late again, what was wrong with her? She grew angry at that thought and formed a fist with her hand. Wrong. That's what Spike had called her. She didn't want to admit to him when he said it in the alleyway by the abandoned house that she had had the same thoughts and fears herself when willow brought her back. Things just didn't seem right anymore, parts of her just weren't there now, the passion and drive she thought shed always had was suddenly gone. And Spike, taking full advantage of her, why had she let him? She hated Spike and yet she had practically begged him to make her feel. And he had, if Spike was good for nothing else he at least satisfied her in a way no-one could anymore. Her fist gripped the window ledge tighter now and she felt it buckle under her force, bits started to break off and splinter her hand but still she wouldn't let go, she didn't care, at least it was something, some way to let her anger out on something other than Spike. It seemed like everyone she loved just drifted farther and farther away from her until she was all alone. Suddenly she felt a pang of despair, "mom bought me that clock so Id be able to get up for school after patrolling" she thought, it saddened her to actually think and refer to her mother as dead but what else could she do? Cancer had claimed her life, so young, so unfair. Her mother would be so disappointed in her. As tears formed in her eyes she turned away from the window and sat on her bed, she fought the tears at first but eventually it was inevitable, it would be another night of crying herself to sleep.