The Future Tense
"Do you ever—" She stops, uncertain. "Nevermind."
"Do I ever what, Niblet?" His voice is quiet, reflecting her mood. He lights a cigarette and she finds the sound and scent a comfort.
"Do you ever think about the future?"
"Sometimes," he replies, drawing a last breath from the cigarette and putting it out on the ground. "Try not to, if I'm honest."
"I think about it all the time," she confesses, and nervously tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I can't help it. The Buffybot's not gonna last forever and then what are we gonna do? And who knows how long you'll stay before you realise you're bored and decide to go?"
He stands, an odd look on his face. It's only when he speaks that she realises it's a look of hurt. "You think that's why I stay? 'Cos I'm bored? Dawn—"
"No," she interrupts. "I know you only look after me 'cos of Buffy. It's okay, though." She shrugs. "It's always 'cos of Buffy."
He looks angry, now. "That's not it. Not it at all. Was your friend before hers, wasn't I? Even if she hadn't asked, I'd still be here, helping out, stoppin' in with you to watch girly films and all that rot."
"Really?" She sounds hopeful.
"Yes, really." He gives her a smile. A proper one, not the evil smirk or mocking grin she's used to. "Dunno much 'bout the future. Try not to think of it, as I said. But I do know that I'm not goin' anywhere. You need me, Bit, and I'm here, okay?"
She nods and smiles, fears calmed. And when she hugs him, swift and tight around his waist, he doesn't pull away.