Dawn waited on the sidewalk as Buffy locked the front door. Together they headed down the street. Dawn trudged along as if she carried a load of rocks in her backpack.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to," Buffy said.

"I'd miss the review for the English test," Dawn answered. "I'll be okay . . . we'll be okay."

She took Buffy's hand and they walked to Sunnydale High like two kids on a field trip, swinging their hands. Dawn pulled away and joined the students streaming into the building. No good-byes. Not this morning.

Buffy hurried the few blocks to the Magic Box. Everyone was already there. Anya was helping a customer. Willow had three books open in front of her already. Xander, running late for work, tossed a box of donuts onto the table, nodded at Buffy and left.

Buffy couldn't bear the sight of the empty chair across from Willow, even for a few seconds, so she slid into it.

"Did Dawn get off to school alright?" Willow asked.

"Yeah . . . I'm just checking in. I have one more errand to run this morning."

"Want some company?"

"Thanks, Will, but it's something I need to do alone," Buffy replied.

Willow stuck out her lower lip. Buffy smiled back.

"No poutage. It's not gonna work on me. I won't be gone long." She ducked out while Anya was still busy. Anya always meant well, but today her blunt comments would sting.

Sunnydale's main street wasn't too busy, with most people already at work or school. Buffy shoved her hands in her pockets and shut off the thoughts swirling around in her mind. She looked down at her feet.

One step at a time.

With 43 churches packed into the Sunnydale area, it didn't take long for her to reach one. Its steeple cast a cross-shaped shadow on the street.

"St. Michael's Catholic Church. Bingo at 6:00," the sign out front read.

"I hope I don't walk right into a mass," Buffy muttered as she opened the door.

She found what she was looking for right inside the foyer, a table with an altar in front of it. Candles in glass cups covered its surface. The two that were lit caught her eye. Someone had come even earlier than she had.

She picked up a long match and lit a candle in a red glass. Red is good, she thought. Blue is too sad, too . . . blue. But Mom liked blue. She lit a blue one before blowing out the match, and knelt at the altar.

"We're not okay, Mom," she whispered. "But I think we'll get there eventually."

It was over so quickly, but it didn't seem right to just walk away, so Buffy entered the deserted sanctuary and slid into a pew in the back. Anguish overflowed, and she wept. Her cries echoed through the church.

Jamison's hand froze halfway to his mouth. Is that someone crying? He set his muffin down on the desk and brushed a few crumbs from his T- shirt. Where'd I put that box of tissues? He grabbed it from a bookshelf and tiptoed down the hall.