Authors Note; This is my first piece of fan fiction for a long time, it takes place in season 6 of Buffy however some events (within season 6) have not occurred or have happened differently. For example, Giles has gone back to England but Tara and Willow never split up, Buffy died and was brought back, Joyce died but stayed dead. As always none of the characters belong to me and reviews are always welcomed. Enjoy.

Rosie

Buffy Summers lay curled up with her face plastered against the cold floor of the bathroom. She felt sick and the pain in her stomach was horrible – not as bad as some of the pain from injuries inflicted whilst fighting demons, vampires and the like, but still not fun. Her mouth tasted like vomit and she knew that over the past hour she had thrown up a fair bit of blood too. If she had been human she would have been very close to needing her stomach pumped but apparently being the slayer had its advantages.

"For fucksake..." she pulled herself up and vomited into the toilet, unable to hold herself straight she collapsed back onto the floor again. A small moan escaped her lips. How dumb could she be? Willow, Tara and Dawn were all asleep in their respective parts of the house, dreaming away and hopefully blissfully unaware of her current state. Why the hell did she feel the need to come home and drink? She never used to, but now she seemed to do it every night. Up until now she had stopped after a bottle of wine or part of a bottle of spirits, just enough to make her a bit tipsy, make her a little happier, take the edge off a little. Tonight had been different. Tonight something had happened and to neutralise it she had, had a lot more than she normally would have and instead of making her happier or numb to the world around her, she was hurting.

Tears began welling up in her eyes and she blinked them back angrily. She wouldn't cry damnit.

Life seemed so much harder now than what it used to. She remembered being 16 and how life had seemed so hard when she was first told that she was the slayer, Christ, even before that when she'd been a normal school girl life had been a pain at times. Since her arrival in Sunnydale she had been depressed and stressed out on numerous occasions, but now... now it just seemed all the more hopeless. She missed her Mom so much that her heart threatened to explode under the pressure. At least before when she had been sad she hadn't needed to worry about Dawn or money. Tara had been good to her, making dinner or breakfast when she needed it and keeping on top of the housework. It wasn't right though, Tara needed time with Willow and likewise for Willow. They wouldn't stay in the house forever. At some point they would decide that Buffy was strong enough to cope and leave, Giles had.

She lay there, a broken, drunk, mess of a woman, on the floor of her bathroom and all of a sudden Buffy couldn't hold it in anymore. She started shaking and the tears flowed freely down her cheeks. A sob caught in her throat and she bit her hand to stop any noise from escaping. She lay there and cried until she couldn't anymore.

Somewhere through the haze of a dream she could hear a tapping noise.

"Buffy?!"

Who was talking to her? What did they want with her?

"Buffy? Are you in there? Dawn needs to brush her teeth before school. Buffy?!" The knocking continued.

Buffy snapped awake. Fuck, she hadn't meant to fall asleep. The bathroom was a mess and stunk to high heaven. She surveyed the room from a seated position then rose to her feet. There was an empty bottle of rum, a part used bottle of gin and an empty bottle of wine on the floor – she hoped that she hadn't consumed them all herself. That was when she became aware of the state of her own body. Her face was pale with the exception of a dark circle under each of her eyes, her hair was a greasy, disgusting mess and her makeup was long gone, but that was all cosmetic, easily enough fixed with a shower, a decent sleep and some good makeup. No, what really irked her was her throat which felt like someone had rubbed sandpaper down it, her stomach was killing her and she had a headache like no one's business.

"Buffy, please say something, I'm starting to get worried."

Willow's voice came through the door again. Buffy knew that she couldn't leave the bathroom like this and did the only thing that she could do.

"'I'm fine..."

Willow shot Tara a worried look across the hall, Buffy didn't sound fine. The smell coming from the bathroom was acrid and pretty strong even through the locked door. Her friend had not been acting normally in the months since she had been brought back and after her revelation that she had been dragged out of heaven Willow considered herself to blame. She had done the right thing, they'd been in a shitty situation and had chosen the right way out. It had been the right thing to do... right?

"Are you sure? Can Dawn come in and brush her teeth?"

"Ah, no, just... I'm just going to have a shower... major monstery times last night, I look like a major mess..."

Well, it wasn't a complete lie.

"Oh, ok then... Major monstery times can do that, but Buffy, what about Dawns toothbrush? If you hand it out she can just do them in the kitchen."

Oh god, that's right. Toothbrush... why couldn't Dawn just... chew gum or something. She knew that Willow wouldn't let up about it but at the same time she really didn't want her to see inside. Buffy grabbed a toothbrush and toothpaste and opened the door a crack. She stuck a hand around the door and waved it – within a second the toothbrush and paste were gone from her hand which she quickly withdrew and hastily locked the door again.

"... Thanks... I'll take these down to her. Are you sure you don't need anything?"

"No thanks Will, I'm good."

Yeah right.

As soon as she heard the footsteps disappear down the stairs she flushed the toilet and peeled off her filthy clothes. Within seconds Buffy was slumped in the shower under a steaming stream of water. She was fine. She was going to be fine. Everything was going to be ok; if she could make it through the next 10 minutes without vomiting.

She did, and after her shower was down to a tepid temperature – all of the hot water having been used, she turned off the shower and began to concoct a plan of attack to clean the bathroom. She wrapped a towel around herself and went downstairs to get a bucket and mop.

The cleaning didn't take long, just a quick mop, throwing away the empty bottles (stashing the half used one for later) and spraying some air freshener around the place. It looked fine, maybe even better than fine. She could still smell the vomit, but she was pretty certain that it was her that stunk not the bathroom – despite her shower. She was suddenly very tired again, she left the mop and bucket in the bathroom (empty and clean of course) and made her way to bed.

When she came to it was mid afternoon and after popping a decent dose of codeine she felt a million times better. The world seemed bright and colourful again as she floated around the house. She didn't care about anything. She sighed with happiness and left her house to walk to the Magic Box.