"Cordy. You need to wake up." She heard Dawn moan, "I need you…"

Cordelia opened her eyes slightly with a little trouble. There was something sticky over them, which made them difficult to open. The morning sun was up, and the brightness made Cordelia close her eyes again for a moment.

Then she remembered what she had heard and her eyes opened again. But Dawn wasn't there. She hadn't really heard her voice, she thought to herself.

She lifted her head, even thought it caused a sharp pain in her shoulder. She was lying on her back, and she looked down at her body to see why her skin felt so tight. Her eyes shot open, and she remembered. She should be dead, she thought.

Her tank top was a mix of brown dirt and red dried blood, and it was torn in many places, exposing bright red lines surrounded by darker red. Her jeans, also ripped open in many places, were covered in dirt and blood like her tank top, but at least she could see some blue there.

She tried to sit up, unsuccessfully.

She tried again. Just pain. No sitting.

Then she thought about what Faith had said about visiting Dawn, and she sat up.

'Good.' She thought, happy with her victory.

She tried to stand next, but that wasn't going to happen she quickly realized. So she compromised. She put her knees under her, and tried to crawl on her hands and knees.

That worked fine for about five seconds, when she put down her right hand. As soon as she put her weight on that arm a massive pain shot through her. It couldn't support her and she collapsed onto her face.

"great." She said aloud, remembering what had happened to her hand. She didn't want to look at it. She didn't want to see the two-inch gash that went in her palm and out the other side. She thought if she looked at that particular cut she'd puke.

So she crawled, using only one hand. She'd put her arm down, and shimmy her butt forward, half pulling half butt bouncing, and then repeat. She could use her knees, but it hurt due to the wounds on her left inner thigh and right hip. Her butt was one of the few places without a surgical-like slice in it.

It was slow going, and frustrating. Luckily it was still very early, probably 5:30ish, so no one was around. "Must be a pretty scary sight." She said to herself.

She thought about how Dawn was going to freak out at her for the mess she'd gotten herself into. She wondered if Buffy had ever looked this bad. She doubted it.

There was a time when she would be seriously upset if she got mud on her pumps. She gave a little laugh at that, then a moan. "Ok. No laughing. Laughing hurts."

She wasn't very far from their house, but it took well over an hour before she was pulling herself up the steps to the front door, one by one. With every move she gave a grunt or a wheeze or a gasp, depending on what part of her body that particular movement hurt, and her tears were flowing freely now, cutting two twin lines down her dirt and blood caked cheeks.

She opened the front door.

"Dawn!" she yelled as she crawled into the home, her voice cracking. "Dawn where are you?"

But she knew Dawn wasn't there. She knew as soon as she entered the house. It just felt…empty.

She kicked the door closed with her foot, then lid facedown on the floor and wept. And not the single tear, movie type of wept. It was the kind with nonsensical screaming and tears and snot flowing freely and uncontrolled. She couldn't be a hero and save the day like Buffy would have. She couldn't even stand.

She stayed there for a long time, but finally, around the noon mark, she crawled to the stairs. Then, just like outside, she crawled up, one by one. Hand then butt, hand then butt, and repeat twenty something times.

When she reached the top her arm was sore, but at least this one wasn't chopped up. She looked at her other arm for the first time. There was a long cut on her shoulder, a small but deep one over her elbow, and her hand. She couldn't open her fingers all the way to get a good look at the wound, but she could tell it was still oozing. She smelled it. It was disgusting, and she threw up on the floor.

Infected.

Whatever. She just won't smell it anymore. The Slayer super duper healing factor should take care of the infection. That one was going to leave a nasty stigmata like scar though.

She decided to continue on her journey, and crawled to the bathroom. Once there she grabbed onto the sink with her good arm, and slowly hauled her self up. She could stand now, with the helpful support of the sink, but she wasn't very steady.

She looked at herself in the mirror, and wished she hadn't. Her hair was all matted together and sticking off in every which way. The gashes that she had had on her forehead and cheek before what had happened last night had both obviously opened back up. Her entire face was a mix of dried red blood and brown, caked dirt. She could see the route her uncontrollable tears had taken. Her lip was swollen from that nasty bite. She had two black eyes from the head-butt she had received to her nose, each one puffy with a blue-black streak under it. The blood that had come from that wound was the grossest. Her entire upper-lip, bottom lip, and chin were caked in black dried blood. But what worried her most was the weird angle her nose was at. It was obviously broken.

All in all, her face was an absolute train-wreck.

She gave a deep sigh of resignation, and sat back on the floor. She knew she was probably going to pass out in a minute, and she didn't want to smash her head on the sink or break something in the fall.

She idly traced the linoleum tiles on the floor with her finger, postponing what she knew she had to do. She was nervous.

"Ok Cordelia," she said to herself, "just do it. It has to be done. Just do it."

She put her hand on her nose.

"1….2….3!"

She chickened out. "oh man, oh man, oh man. This is going to hurt. FUCK!" she yelled, frustrated.

After a minute of heavy breathing, she took control of herself. She tried to pump herself up with a pep talk. "Ok. Calm Down. On 3. Have to do it this time. Don't want to look like Owen Wilson. It suits him, maybe it would suit me. No. No. It wouldn't suit a girl. Nope. You HAVE to do this."

She put her hand to her forehead, stressed out. "I thought you were once a cheerleader," she berated herself, "you're not a very good confidence inspirerer."

She calmed herself. Closed her eyes. Put her hand on the bridge of her nose.

"ok. One."

Sweat was stinging her eyes.

"two."

Her voice cracked.

"Three!"

'SNAP!'

Explosion of stars then black.