A/N: Thanks for all the comments in the review box! First of all, let me just say that I'm definitely a Spuffy shipper and point out that the last chapter was actually more satirical as opposed to literal (filled with the somewhat sarcastic musings of a bitter B/S fan), in case some of you didn't notice. And lots of cookies for those of you that did! J

Italics are thoughts.

This story will become B/S very soon. But for now, follow Buffy a bit further along the river of Denial as the stage sets for Spuffiness. And I'll try to update ASAP, but it won't be immediate unless you want this to sound like crap. J

"Buffy, BUFFY! God, is that all you do? Sleep?"

The blonde Slayer groaned, reaching out an arm to bat uselessly at the annoyance.

Five more minutes, Mom. Just give me five more minutes.

"BUFFY! Get UP!"

Thump.

Buffy was suddenly not on the soft, warm mattress. Buffy was suddenly on the cold, hard floor. She rolled over, still tangled up in the sheets, her head pounding with a massive headache, and squinted up through the bright late-morning light at her mother—no, sister.

Dawn, right. Not Mom.

Buffy forced a somewhat strained smile.

"I'm up, Dawnie."

The glaring teenager's gaze softened. Shockingly fast, she changed from bossy and righteously indignant to giddy and rather mischievous, with a sly little smile on her glossy lips.

Buffy realized that Dawn was wearing the same lip-gloss that she had "borrowed" for her date. And with that realization came all the events of the night before, from the wine to the sex to the…

Well, at least that explains the hangover.

"So, how was your date with Mark? Did you guys make out? 'Cause you know, you got back really late last night."

The Slayer winced at her sister's flippant words.

I really am a slut.

"C'mon, Buffy, spill! What'd you guys do?"

The blonde swallowed; her mouth was suddenly very dry. Probably an effect of the hangover.

"Not much," she croaked.

Dawn rolled her eyes and pounced onto the bed, gazing languidly down at her sister.

"I'm not a little kid. I know about this stuff. So where'd you go?"

It was Buffy's turn to roll her eyes. There was no escaping the prying little sister.

"We went to a restaurant. It was nice."

"Nice?" Dawn echoed. "Nice as in you made out afterwards or nice as in you jumped his bones in a—"

"Dawn!" Buffy felt the blood rush to her face.

Oh God, even my baby sister thinks I'm a slut.

"What? Like I said, I do know about these things. I mean, I've been hanging around An—around…around…grown-up people for a long time," the teen ended hesitantly.

"It's alright," Buffy said softly, a rebuke dying on her lips as her heart went out to her sister. "Anya wouldn't have wanted you to never mention her again. Dawnie, the process of healing includes accepting, and most importantly, moving on."

Dawn wanted to make a retort, point out just how hypocritical her sister was being. But remembering Buffy's stricken expression from before, the teenager softened. Buffy had always had a hard time moving on. She still remembered (or in one case, thought she did) how her sister had been after Angel and Riley left.

And the subject had always been taboo till Buffy had found herself a new boyfriend.

Is she the only one allowed to grieve? Dawn thought with a sudden flare of anger. Will she ever even tell us what happened? Did they break up…again? Did he leave town? Or…or…

The alternative was simply too horrible to think about.

But don't we deserve to know? Don't I deserve to know?

He was my friend.

Not trusting herself to refrain from making a hurtful comment, Dawn gave another plastic, glossy smile and quickly evacuated the room.

***

She strolled down the noonday street, just walking around, with no clear destination in mind. Just thinking, or to be more accurate, trying to avoid thinking. It was a nice day out, bright and warm, with not a puffy cloud in sight.

People walking around her unconsciously kept a wide berth, almost seeming to sense the gloom that rolled out of her small frame. The melancholia that seemed to cast shadows of darkness on this lovely day like a disfiguring disease. Maybe they instinctively knew to keep away lest the depression be contagious.

"So, Buff, how was your date?"

The blonde Slayer jumped half her height up into the air before she registered the familiar voice.

Not a threat.

She forced her heart rate to slow back down.

"Jeez, Xander, when did you get so good at sneaking up on people?"

He grinned. "Those super-Slayer senses sure aren't working like they used to, huh?"

"Guess not," Buffy replied, managing a small smile. He was trying; she had to give him points for that. "Must be getting old," she added lightly.

Xander nodded, moved over to walk beside her. "Well, how was the date?"

She dropped all semblance of cheerfulness. "Not exactly great. Xander, if you don't mind, I'd rather not talk about it."

He hesitated for the briefest of moments, then laid a large, warm hand on her shoulder.

"Buffy, please. This is important. We—I—saw Mark this morning. He's kind of…upset. I don't know what you're going through right now, but Mark's a nice guy. He doesn't deserve to be treated like…to be, well…used."

The Slayer stopped walking and turned cold eyes on her friend. "The others." She said it like the words were something vile in her mouth. "They sent you, didn't they?"

Xander fidgeted. "Well…yeah. They did. But that's not the point, Buff. There's something on your mind. Now, I don't know what happened last night, but—"

"I slept with him."

The confession was so quiet it was almost a whisper. Buffy stared at the paved ground, unwilling to meet her friend's eye.

"What?! Uh, Buff, can you repeat that? 'Cause I thought you said—"

She raised her head, stared defiantly up into his face. "When did my personal life become everyone's business? I slept with him, okay? Is there something wrong with that?"

For a moment, Xander just stared at the small woman standing in front of him. She'd been one of his best friends, ever since their sophomore year of high school. He knew her, knew what type of person she was. And this situation just screamed, "NOT Buffy."

And even as she turned on her heel and angrily strode away, he knew she'd never admit why she was acting this way. But he knew. That was his gift, wasn't it?

"You're the one who sees everything, aren't you?"

Well, the guy had been right.

The Slayer was missing something. As much as he hated to admit it, Buffy wasn't over him yet. And it would be a long time before she would be.

If she ever does get over Soul-boy Jr. Emphasis on the "if." One too many heartbreaks, and the Buffster may be down for good.

Xander sighed and turned to head back to the motel. True, he'd never much liked Captain Peroxide. But if that was what made Buffy happy and complete, well…

He should probably talk to Willow.

***

Buffy didn't mix with alcohol. They were very non-mix-y things, kind of like oil and water.

But here she was anyway, sipping away at her second Long Island Iced Tea. Just how much alcohol was in there, anyway? And to think, the tall glass tasted just like iced tea. The non-alcoholic kind.

She tried to remember, but the alcohol had dulled her memory. She could remember when he'd explained it to her, that night after she'd gotten drunk and watched a rather strange version of a familiar card game. Right after she'd found and pursued the Geek Trio's van to no effect.

But she couldn't remember exactly what he'd said, just that it was about the contents of those popular mixed drinks that she should probably stay away from.

And that was what scared her deep down inside, that she couldn't recall his words verbatim. Maybe it was just because she'd never really paid much attention to his conversation then.

Or maybe I'm already forgetting.

No, no, she wouldn't.

She couldn't.

Buffy downed the rest of her drink and ordered another tall glass.

***

"All right girls, that's enough for tonight. Go get a good night's sleep, 'cause the Watcher wants more training tomorrow."

The oldest brunette Slayer in the group stepped away from the entourage amidst a collection of groans. She left the newly called Slayers to go to their respective rooms to retire. But before she could settle down for the night, there was someone she needed to see.

She rapped on the door with her knuckles.

"Who's there?"

She smiled despite herself and pushed the door open, stepping in.

He was getting ready for bed, with his shirt unbuttoned and no shoes or socks. She was going to talk to him, really, but…

"Robin, you can invite me in. I don't bite…well, unless you want me to."

He gave her a smile and rose from his seat on the corner of the bed.

"I'd like to see you try."

***

"What did you want to talk to me about?" he whispered in the dark.

Faith was jerked out of her half-sleep by his words. She'd forgotten! To think, she'd taken one look at him and forgot all about B…

"B's missing. Didn't come back for dinner."

He turned over and flicked on the bedside lamp. Concern evident on his smooth features.

"You don't suppose she's in trouble?"

She smiled wryly. "No, B can take care of herself. She's probably out jumping another guy right now."

"I see," he said, his expression stating otherwise. "And is that a good thing?"

"No!" she exclaimed, wrapping the sheets around her body and rolling over to face him. "That's why I wanted to talk to you, 'Mr. Perceptive.' B's not okay. She's been out of it since we left good old Sunnyhell."

Robin's face suddenly became curiously blank. He stared off into space.

"Buffy's a fighter, like you. She'll get through it."

Faith slowly shook her head. "I dunno. Maybe. Yeah, you're probably right. But it's just…she's been messed up for so long, y'know? B should've snapped out of her funk by now." The brunette Slayer hesitated, put her hand on his shoulder and made him look at her. "I don't expect you might know what's eating her?"

Robin gazed at Faith. "No, I don't," he said with a perfectly straight face.

TBC