Buffy stepped out of the shower and pulled the towel from the bar. As she pressed the towel to her face, she licked her lips, tasting the salt there from her tears. How many times now had she done this, stood in the shower so that Dawn couldn't hear her crying? A dozen? Two dozen? When Riley left, when her mom died, when she realized that she couldn't possibly defeat Glory? And that just before she died.
She could hear Dawn moving around in the kitchen downstairs. Buffy tried to take a few deep breaths while she dried herself and pulled her clothes on, but her throat was still tight. She felt scraped raw all over. She certainly hadn't realized that seeing Amanda would hurt this much. After all, she had gone only to make Willow feel better. She hadn't really had any intention of telling the doctor anything.
But something about Amanda made Buffy want to trust her. Maybe it was the way that she didn't really look like a doctor, but an older sister? Or was it the comforting smell of incense and candles in the room? Or maybe Buffy had really wanted to tell someone, and just hadn't realized it?
She had to admit that as much as it hurt, it had helped to talk about it. Until this afternoon, she hadn't consciously realized that she thought of her death as suicide rather than sacrifice. Was Amanda right? Did the sacrifice outweigh the selfishness? Was it even selfishness? After all, if she hadn't jumped, the world would have been destroyed. Or Dawn would have died. For the first time since she'd come back, Buffy felt that a tiny bit of the weight she didn't even realize she was carrying had been lifted.
That was certainly new. Lately, it had seemed that every day just piled more misery on her shoulders. What was that old saying, "Time heals all wounds?" It seemed for Buffy that time just gave the universe a chance to think up new punishments. Checking her reflection in mirror for puffy eyes and tear stains, Buffy pronounced her look passable and padded down the stairs.
"Did you leave any hot water for me?" Dawn asked as Buffy entered the kitchen.
Buffy ignored her sister's jab and went to the refrigerator. At least some things never change, she thought. Dawn had stopped tiptoeing around her days ago. She was back in her bitchy teenager persona.
"Your manager at work called," Dawn said, licking pancake batter off the spoon in her hand. "They want you to come in early tomorrow. Jim somebody called off."
"Pancakes for dinner again, Dawn?" Buffy replied, trying to force the idea of going to the Doublemeat Palace tomorrow out of her mind.
"Well, it's not like you ever cook anything," Dawn said, turning back to the stove.
Score another hit for Dawn, Buffy thought. One more strike like that and she'll sink my battleship. "Is Willow home yet?"
"I think she's up in her room. She was asking about you before, something about a doctor's visit today." Dawn stopped and looked at Buffy, "Are you sick?" A split second of concern passed over her face.
"No, it wasn't that kind of doctor." Then Buffy stopped. Should she tell her sister she was seeing a therapist? She'd find out eventually anyway, and then be mad at Buffy for not telling her. So, Buffy said, "She's like a counselor."
Dawn groaned. "Just don't make any wishes," she replied, deftly flipping another pancake onto the plate.
Buffy smiled wryly. "Don't worry, I won't," she said, taking plates and silverware to the table. After the horrific events of her last birthday, she certainly wouldn't be doing any wishing any time soon. And certainly not with Anya still missing. Getting on the wrong side of a vengeance demon was not a good idea in Buffy's book.
As Buffy sat the maple syrup and butter on the table, Dawn went to the stairs and called for Willow. Buffy sized up the huge stack of pancakes. "Are all those for the three of us?"
Dawn shook her head, "Willow said that Xander might stop by. I guess he doesn't really like eating at his place, alone and all."
But Xander didn't show. The three girls stuffed themselves with pancakes and still had a pile left when they called it quits. "I wonder where Xander is," Willow said as they carried the dishes back to the sink.
"Maybe he's still looking for Anya," Buffy replied. Xander hadn't really been himself since the wedding debacle.
"So how did it go today?" Willow asked, not so smoothly changing the subject.
"Not so bad. She was nice. I guess I'm going to go back next week."
"Does this mean you really are crazy?" Dawn asked with her usual tact. At times, Buffy wondered if her little sis were channeling Anya.
"It doesn't mean she's crazy," Willow admonished. "It's just so that she has someone to talk to."
Dawn threw the dishrag on the counter. "So she won't talk to us, but she can go talk to some stranger. Just perfect," she said in an angry voice and she stalked out of the kitchen.
'Dawn," Buffy said, starting to go after all, but Willow stopped her.
"Just let her go. This has been hard on her, too."
"I know, Will," Buffy said, dropping down into a chair. "It just seems like I can't say anything right."
"She'll come around," Willow replied. Though the red-head had become a little more cynical in the last year, she still often displayed her old optimism.
"Yeah, you're probably right," Buffy agreed, not really agreeing with her at all. It seemed that Dawn just got more angry every day, not less. Maybe she should go see Amanda, too. "Do you think you can get these dishes," Buffy said with a sigh, suddenly feeling very tired. "I think I'm going to go up to bed. I have to go into work early tomorrow." She left the kitchen without waiting for Willow's response.
*******************
The back door of the Doublemeat Palace closed heavily behind Buffy as she left. She glanced down at her watch. 10:15, a half hour later than she was scheduled to work. And she had even come in four hours early this morning. She was still trying to get back in the manager's good graces after walking off the job when Riley had shown up. At least she didn't have to close tonight. She would still be home before Dawn went to bed. Not that Dawn would talk to her anyway. An angry glare before bedtime was pretty much all Buffy could count on from her sister.
Buffy started down the street toward home. She was so lost in her thoughts about Dawn that she was almost to the end of the block when she realized that someone was following her. She turned quickly to find Spike loitering a few steps behind her.
Ruthlesslessly suppressing the little thrill that went through her at the sight of him, she asked in a tired voice, "What do you want now, Spike?"
The handsome vampire shrugged. Instead of his usually sarcastic comeback, he mumbled, "Wanted to see how you were doing."
"I'm fine, Spike. I just, I don't have the energy to deal with you right now."
Buffy turned to walk away and he called from behind her, "Did you tell your friends about us yet?"
Buffy knew the last two weeks had been too easy. At first, she had waited uneasily for Spike to follow through on his threat. After he hadn't even come around for a week, she began to breath easier. Of course, she had no intention of telling her friends about Spike. But she just didn't have the strength to ensure that he didn't, either. When she turned to face him, Spike was standing right behind her. "You know I didn't, Spike. Just like you know I'm not going to."
"I didn't think so, luv. That would be too easy. Why not wallow in it a while longer?" He reached out for her. For a moment, she fought the urge to step toward him, then stepped away instead. As if he could read the indecisiveness on her face, Spike chuckled. "Go ahead, pet, fight it. Why give in to what you want, when it's so much easier to be miserable."
"Shut up, Spike. You don't know anything about this, anything about me," Buffy snapped back.
Despite her angry words, this time, when he reached for her, Buffy allowed him to pull her against him. To prove he has to affect on me, she told herself. Certainly not because she wanted to feel his arms around her.
"Don't I, pet? I'd wager I know more about you than the Scoobies do." When she didn't respond, he pressed his lips to soft flesh behind her ear and added softly, "Or have you told them how you like it when I,"
"Don't!" she cried, pulling away.
"Bloody hell, Slayer! Don't! Is that the only word you know?" he yelled back at her, trying to reach for her again. When she danced away from him, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trench coat, as if trying to stop himself from reaching for her again. "Fine," he growled angrily, "But the deal still stands. You have one more week to find the guts to tell your friends what you've been doing in the dark, or I do. It's up to you." With that he melted into the darkness, leaving Buffy standing on the street alone.