The voice drifted up the narrow stairwell, speaking the words Dawn had been dreading for hours. "Dawn, time to go to school!" Dawn buried her face deeper in her pillow. I'm not going, I'm not going, I'm not going… The voice again, this time closer.

"Dawn? What's wrong? Are you sick?" Dawn turned her head to give her sister a baleful glare.

"I'm not going to school, Buffy." She observed the surprised bewilderment in the blonde Slayer's eyes.

"Not what? Not why? Dawn, you have to go to school. Remember last time, with that social services lady?" The corner of Buffy's mouth quirked up as she remembered that particular escapade. The ghost coffee cup, making Xander think Spike was insane….Spike. I miss him, she thought. I actually miss him. Buffy knew she didn't love the vampire, but she…cared for him. She missed Sunnydale, too. All of its familiar streets, familiar faces, and the Magic Box, Anya's beloved shop. Anya. Another who laid down their life to save the world. The beginnings of a tear welled up in Buffy's eye as she recalled just how many she had lost. No time for tears, she told herself. I have to concentrate on the crisis at hand…

"Buffy? The silence is freaking me out. I'd rather you kept ranting."

"OK, I'll bite. Why exactly is it that you're not going to school?" Buffy asked in what she hoped was a menacing tone.

"Because I hate it. I mean, not just the usual school-hate stuff, but I really, really hate it. I can't understand the language, I fail all my tests, and everybody hates me." Dawn knew Buffy would think she was over-reacting, but she wasn't. I can translate ancient Sumerian, but I can't even learn enough basic Italian to understand what's going on. Go figure. When she first started, a few kids came up and tried to befriend her. But she was still grieving the loss of her friends, and besides, she couldn't understand what they were saying. So now, her life consisted of flunking all her subjects, and eating her lunch alone in the change rooms. School is hell, she thought resignedly.

Buffy could understand Dawn's point of view. She'd had her own share of troubles in this new country. Number one on the list, the Immortal. She'd liked him at first, but now he was just getting…possessive. And a possessive vampire is NOT a good thing, she thought. Her spirits lifted as an idea occurred to her. Maybe if she let Dawn stay home, she would have an excuse not to see him. She felt guilty about using Dawn that way, but…

"Fine, you can stay home for ONE day. And I want you to get Andrew to tutor you in Italian."

"But Buffy…" Dawn was desperate not to go to school, but was she that desperate? Last time Andrew tutored me, all he ended up doing was talking to me about Star Wars. Actually, more like talking at me.

"No buts! You want to stay home, you do things my way. Is that clear?"

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"Is that clear, Andrew?" Buffy queried, her face stern. But underneath the grim façade, she was laughing. Andrew and his nervous mannerisms were just so….ridiculous.

"Umm…crystal." Andrew replied, twisting his oven mitts anxiously. "There's just one…small…thing." He sneaked a look at Buffy, then hurriedly went on. "She…I mean I don't think…she doesn't really like me. Like the fatal romance between Anakin Skywalker and the beautiful Padme Amidala, some things are just not meant to be."

Buffy rolled her eyes, annoyance showing in her every move. God save me from geeky teenage boys. "Well, as Yoda said, you'll deal. I'm going out now, and to add the necessary note of caution, if you lay so much as a finger on Dawn, I'll rip out your intestines." With that, she walked out of the apartment, closing the door behind her.

Andrew wiped an imaginary bead of sweat off his temple. Buffy scared him, and as much as he tried, he couldn't hide it. I guess I just don't have the midichlorions. Andrew had no delusions about being a hero, but it still hurt to be humiliated in front of Dawn. Dawn, who meant more to him than George Lucas himself. Dawn, my lovely fragile flower, the great love of my life…who hates me. She never admitted it, but Andrew knew that she hated him. He could see in her every look, in her eyes he saw his failing and cowardice which led to Anya's death. As hard as he tried to distract himself, he couldn't get away from it. The terrible guilt. A scorpion in his mind, stinging him over and over and over. They all told him it wasn't his fault, there was nothing that could have been done. And for a moments he would believe. But then he would look at Dawn, and her beautiful, terrible eyes would pin the blame squarely on him. And the scorpion would wake, and strike once more.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Anya gazed steadily at the ground, her beautiful face seemingly unmarked. "Ahn?" he called. "Anya, is that you?" Suddenly, she raised her head. He gasped, seeing her once-stunning eyes now filmy and dead. As she moved, he caught small glimpses of the ugly weapon protruding from her back. "Ahn?" he said again, this time in a frightened whisper. "Xan-der…" she said in a high sing-song voice, giggling as she approached him. He hurriedly stepped backwards, struggling to escape from those cold, lifeless eyes. "Xander," Anya repeated. "You swore you loved me once. You were kind, and brave, and bought me pretty things. You knew I was a killer, and I thought you didn't care. But you just wanted to feel the sting, didn't you?" All of a sudden, Xander felt a sharp pain in his neck. He turned, nearly fainting in agony, to see a giant black scorpion, tail raised high. His mouth opened in a scream…

Xander Harris woke, gasping, frantically throwing the sheets off his bed. With shaking hands, he gingerly touched the back of his neck, half-expecting to find it torn and bloody. But his skin was smooth and unmarked, just as it was every time he woke from the dream.

Still trembling, he stumbled into the shower, letting the hot water meld with the hot tears running down his face. Every night, he dreamt the same dream, of Anya and the menacing black scorpion. Why? he asked in a silent cry of pain. Why do I have to remember?