(Note: Some dialog taken directly from the episode)

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and its characters are the property of Joss Whedon.

I am not I.

I am this one

Walking beside me whom I do not see,

Whom at times I manage to visit,

And at other times I forget.

The one who remains silent when I talk,

The one who forgives, sweet, when I hate,

The one who takes a walk when I am indoors,

The one who will remain standing when I die.

-I Am Not I by Juan Ramon Jimenez

Days into her resurrection, life was still Hell. Buffy's friends continued to watch her closely for any signs of strange behavior, which only pressured her into hiding her emotional turmoil. On top of that, the water pipes under the house all chose to fail at once, flooding the basement knee-deep. And there was no money to pay for the repairs. Medical bills and everyday expenses had quickly sucked away her mother's life insurance. Which meant Buffy needed to apply for a loan.

Once again she had to put on a mask of confidence she didn't remotely feel. Unemployed, with zero real-life experience, she had no idea what she was doing. It turned out winging it was not the best way to go about getting a loan. Buffy knew seconds into the interview that she would be rejected. It almost came as a relief when a bank clerk came flying through the office window, bringing Buffy's attention to the huge dino-looking demon causing mayhem in the lobby. Unfortunately, the creature got away. And the damned loan officer still wouldn't give her the money!

"That's crazy!" Willow declared later that night while watching Buffy take her frustrations out on her punching bag, "They're all, like 'We won't give you the money unless you can prove you don't need it.' I mean, what kinda system is that?"

Buffy knew she should join in the banter, but couldn't muster the energy. She couldn't seem to connect with any of her friends since her return. Everything felt distant and awkward. And whenever she tried to make a joke—such as teasing Dawn about helping with the demonic research—it always fell flat. Then the looks would come. Those concerned, did-she-come-back-wrong stares she pretended not to notice.

She did feel a surge of emotion when Giles arrived, fresh off the plane from England. The fatherly warmth in his smile relieved her. And the quiet conversation they had in the training room was fairly low pressure. Giles had been moving on with his life. He didn't give any real details, but Buffy could tell, coming back to Sunnydale had not been in any of his plans. It made her feel guilty, like her miraculous coming back to life was an inconvenience to him, though he insisted that wasn't so.

"And how are you? Really?" he asked, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, "You look tired."

"Eh. Nah. Fine," Buffy replied, trying to make it seem like no big deal. Giles obviously wasn't convinced.

"I mean, yeah, y'know, sleeping's hard, but just because of the whole waking-up-in-a-box thing."

"Well, you seem to be doing remarkably well under extreme circumstances. I'm proud of you."

For some reason, that only made her feel worse about her inability to adjust to living again. "Willow brought me back. I just lay there."

"I only meant-"

"I know what you meant," she hurried to assure him, "Just a little post-postmortem comedy."

Giles was kind enough to play along with a faint chuckle. Buffy decided to bring the conversation to an end, using her slayage practice as an excuse. Giles left the training room to help the Scoobies with their research.

Later that night, while setting up the living room couch for Giles to sleep on, Buffy talked to him about the money problems and her difficulties in figuring out...everything. Unlike her younger friends, Giles didn't get agitated by her words. He stayed calm and reassuring, saying all the right things to sooth her worries. Buffy was glad to know that her Watcher could still make her feel like, no matter how bad things were, they'd eventually get better.

That feeling of reassurance lasted until she went to stand outside on the back deck and overheard Giles berating Willow for her reckless use of such powerful magic. Buffy hugged herself, feeling worse the harsher her friends' voices became. She hated that this conflict between them was because of her.

A smoldering cigarette butt suddenly flicked into view. Buffy smiled and stamped it out. "Hello, Spike."

The blonde vampire emerged from the surrounding darkness. "You hear all that noise?" he asked, nodding towards the open window.

"Just enough to make me feel crappy," she sighed. She felt the knot of tension in her stomach loosen in the vampire's presence. Like Giles, he didn't pressure her to act normal. She could unburden herself without fear of wary looks or prying questions. "I feel like I'm spending all of my time trying to be okay so they don't worry. It's exhausting. And then..."

"Then that makes them worry even more," Spike finished for her. He climbed the steps onto the deck and moved to stand beside her. "You want me to take them out?" he asked suddenly, "It'd give me a headache, but I think I can thin the herd a little."

Buffy felt the corners of her mouth twitch upward of their own accord. Spike smiled. "Knew I could get a grin."

Buffy let out a breath, then sat down on the deck steps. After a moment, Spike did the same, his arms resting on his knees. They gazed out at the night together in companionable silence.

"Think it's too late to patrol?" Buffy wondered. She enjoyed patrolling with Spike. Even if they didn't talk, he still kept her mind off her ever increasing troubles.

"Only if you plan on sleeping some time tonight," was his wry answer. He turned to her, and even in the darkness his keen eyes made out the circles under her eyes. "How bad are the dreams?"

"Bad," she muttered, hugging herself.

"It'll pass." He wasn't patronizing her, she could tell. Buffy remembered he mentioned that he had to dig his way out of his own grave when he turned, just like she had. The fact that he spoke from experience helped her believe his words were true.

Buffy scooted closer to him, linked her arm with his and rested her head on his shoulder. She felt him tense for a second, then slowly relax again. His body didn't radiate any heat, being undead and all, but he still breathed, even though he didn't need to. The steady rise and fall of his breaths lulled Buffy until her eyes started to close.

A loud crash and Dawn's terrified screams jolted Buffy from her light doze. She immediately leapt to her feet and rushed into the house, Spike close behind her. There they found Giles knocked out on the floor and the dino-demon from the bank robbery looming over a terrified Dawn. In the ensuing fight, Buffy winced at every broken piece of furniture and shattered lamp, until she and Spike managed to get the demon into the flooded basement where Buffy then beat the monster to death with a broken length of defecting plumbing pipe.

"Whoa," Spike declared once the mayhem was over, "You know this place is flooded?"

Buffy rolled her eyes.


Spike returned to his crypt as soon as the excitement died down. He and the Scoobies had developed a grudging respect for each other over the summer when he helped with the patrols, but since the Slayer's return, that seemed to have vanished. Now that the real hero was back, the neutered vampire was no longer welcome. Bloody hypocrites.

Spike spent the wee hours of the night sprawled in his chair in front of the TV, watching infomercials until he fell asleep. He jerked awake a few hours later to a loud tapping at his door. Puzzled and somewhat muzzy, he squinted at the crypt's high windows and saw from the angle of the light that it was morning. Who the bloody hell would be bothering him at this hour? Didn't they know this was the time for vampires to sleep? He got out of his chair and staggered over to the door, yanked it open. "This better be g-" He blinked in surprise as his sleep-deprived brain recognized the petite figure in front of him.

"Can I come in?" Buffy asked nervously.

"Uh, yeah." Spike moved aside to let her in, then shut the door, blotting out the harsh sunlight. "Something wrong?"

"Angel called. He knows I'm back."

The mention of his grandsire cause an involuntary growl to escape his throat. "What's the Great Poof want?"

"He asked to see me. I was headed for the bus depot, but...I wanted you to know first." Buffy fidgeted. "I didn't want you to worry about my not showing up for patrol tonight."

Spike felt a strange mix of emotions, ranging from surprise and silent delight that the Slayer even thought to show him any consideration, to burning jealousy at how a mere phone call from her ex-lover had her running to meet up with Captain Forehead.

"Sure you two have a lot to catch up on," he grated.

Buffy took a hesitant step closer. "I should be back sometime tomorrow. D'you...still wanna patrol with me then?"

Spike was tempted to make up some excuse as to why he couldn't, but who was he kidding? Even if she wound up prattling on about the broody vampire when she came back, Spike could not resist the chance to spend more time with the Slayer. Love's bitch to the bitter end. "Love to, pet."

He didn't miss the relief in her smile, which made him wonder.

"Great. Um, sorry if I woke you."

"It's fine." He mustered a smile for her. "Have a good trip."

With a final nod of thanks, Buffy turned and left the crypt. As the door closed behind her with an echoing thud, Spike abruptly marched over to the trunk where he stored his whiskey and pulled out a mostly full bottle. The took a heavy swig of the burning liquid, then took it with him down to the second level, where he finished it off while sprawled in his bed, feeling sorry for himself.