Disclaimer: I don't any of these characters. Joss owns all, lucky bastard.

A/N: I apologize in advance for the cheese. I was just in a really sappy mood.

They didn't find the letter until weeks later. None of them was brave enough to sort through her things, so her room waited, standing still, as life happened outside, as near as the hallway even. The empty room witnessed anger, love, sex, tears, and even laughter. Once. Followed by silence. But most of all it witnessed grief, impossible not to really, even for an empty room.

And then one day Tara went upstairs after a dinner that Dawn had left early, only to find the girl sitting on the floor of Buffy's room in a pile of clothes. "Dawnie, are you sure--?"

"She told me to live. And I'm not. We're living in a house of death here Tara."

Tara didn't know whether to laugh at the girl's melodrama or cry at her grief, but she knew neither reaction would be well received so she just said "Do you want any help?"

"Yeah, maybe."

"Okay, I'll get the others." Twenty minutes later, it was standing room only in the bedroom. Giles and Anya sat on the bed, with Xander, Willow, and Tara on the floor with Dawn. While Tara had been assembling the troops, Dawn had emptied every drawer, closet, and box in the place.

For awhile they sorted in virtual silence, pausing only to see if any of them wanted an item of clothing or a trinket. Dawn seemed to be the only who wanted any of it, although Giles claimed her silver cross and Willow took Mr. Gordo after ascertaining that Dawn wanted nothing to do with the stuffed pig she had not been allowed to go near during its owner's lifetime. Xander took the framed photo from her nightstand of he, Buffy, and Willow in their junior year.

Suddenly, Anya, who had volunteered for going through her papers, a job nobody else wanted, as though disturbing the hair placed carefully on her diary would anger her spirit from beyond the grave or something, piped up, "Look! A letter for us."

"An, why would Buffy leave a letter for us in a box in her bedroom? We're all just a phone call away. What makes you think it's for us, anyway?"

"Oh, I don't know, the inscription on the envelope that says 'For Dawn, Giles, Willow, Xander, Tara, and Anya' maybe?"

They all looked uncertainly at each other. "I guess we should read it," ventured Willow tentatively.

"Are you sure? I mean, if she didn't give it to us herself, maybe there was a reason," responded Tara. "Maybe she wrote it when she was really angry or something. You don't want to remember her angry."

They sat in silence for a moment until Dawn interrupted. "I want to read it. You don't have to if you don't want to, but I need—I want to read it."

Nobody said anything, so Anya slowly handed the letter over to Dawn. Just as she opened it, Giles, who had remained silent the entire time, said "Maybe you had better read it out loud."

Nobody raised any objections, so Dawn began.

I know this is kind of pointless, since no one's probably ever going to read this. It's just that with everything going on with Glory, I'm starting to feel like I might not make it out of this. So just in case, here's everything I want to say, but probably won't have time to. Hopefully you won't be reading this until I'm old and grey, but it can't hurt to be prepared, right? Oh, and Dawn, if you're reading this while I'm still alive, I'll make copies of your diary and pass it out at your school.

Dawn's voice broke while reading this, and she stopped to catch her breath, sobs escaping despite her. The others knew they should step in and offer to take over the reading, but no one trusted themselves to hold back their own tears. Except Anya of course, who grabbed the letter out of Dawn's hands. "Oh, for heaven's sakes, you guys are such saps," she snapped, in what she hoped they would mistake for her usual tone of voice. I'll read it."

I've been thinking a lot about death lately, which I guess is understandable, seeing as my mom's funeral was barely two weeks ago. Because when Mom died, I realized something. For so long, all I wanted was for people to appreciate me and everything I did for them. Because, and let's abandon modesty here for a sec, seeing as I'm dead, I did sacrifice a lot for the world. When I got that award at prom, it meant more to me than you can imagine. It meant that people finally appreciated me. As the slayer. Maybe even as a hero. But when Mom died, I realized what I missed most was the little things, not any grand gestures. Mom never thought of me as a hero. I was her daughter. I didn't help enough with housework, and I made fun of her clothes. I was irresponsible, and too vain. I didn't communicate with her enough, and I didn't take an interest in her work. I didn't hang out with Dawn enough. The list was endless. But I also brought her breakfast in bed on mother's day. I took care of things while she was in the hospital, and she knew she'd never have to worry about Dawn's wellbeing as long as I was alive. We had the same taste in food, and for the most part I laughed at her jokes. And in the end, she knew she could trust me. And I would trade all the recognition in the world to be able to tell my mom how much she meant to me.

But I do have the opportunity to tell all of you how much you meant to me. And not because of all the times you helped me save the world (not that the world and I aren't grateful) when you didn't have to. Not even because without you I would have been dead before my slaying career really began. Just because you loved me. The slayer, but more importantly Buffy. So thank you. I know I don't always make it clear that I mean this, but thank you. Thanks for nights in the library, and nights in the magic box, and nights in the bronze, and nights in my living room. Thanks for indulging me in my John Hughes obsession. Thanks for offering ice cream when you know I need it. Thanks for not letting my head get too big, and for calling me on my bullshit.

Anya's voice cracked a little here. "I didn't think she even noticed," she said before continuing.

Thanks for keeping me company during the flu from hell. Thanks for movie nights, whether it be 'Apocalypse Now' or strange Hindi movies involving water buffalo. Thanks for taking me to the icecapades. Thanks for lattes at the Espresso Pump, and for trying to educate me, whether it be about chemistry, demons, or love. Thanks for making fun of my taste in music, and for accepting me back every time I screwed up. Thanks for telling me when my outfits were ugly, but always making me feel beautiful. Thanks for being proud of me. Thanks for taking care of each other. And most of all, thank you for being my family.

Wow, I'm glad I'm not going to be around when you read this. Now you know my secret. Underneath it all, I'm just a big sap. I know you guys will be okay in the end, with or without me, so I'm not going to give you any sage advice. And if you ever feel useless or like you don't matter, just remember the difference you made to me.

Buffy