The brisk morning air brushed coldly against her cheek, which blossomed a faint pink in response. Wrapping the warm woollen coat more securely around her, she made her way down the gravel path towards the large field at the back of the house.
As expected, she found her sister lightly stroking the nose of the dark brown stallion. He neighed in response to seeing the blonde woman and as she approached, the other dappled grey horse pushed his nose insistently against her side in search of some treats. With a faint smile, Buffy obliged them both and produced two apple halves, which they greedily devoured.
Dawn had yet to look directly at her sister, and Buffy could feel the anger radiating off the brunette in waves towards her. Knowing she had to be the one to make the first move, Buffy laid her hand on her sister's upper arm and squeezed gently.
"Dawn, I'm sorry. I never meant to snap like that."
Dawn ignored her and moved her face closer to the dark horse, murmuring something unintelligible to it. Frustration and impatience played across Buffy's face as she grabbed her sister a little more firmly and pulled her around to force her to look at her.
"Dawn, listen to me. I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to talk to you like that, I-"
"Of course you didn't mean it, you never do, do you?" Dawn's blue eyes darkened in anger, and she yanked her arm away from her sister and stepped back away from her.
"What is it you want from me, Buffy? Do you want me to tell you it's okay, that I forgive you? Like everyone else always does, because, hey, you're the slayer and live with so much responsibility, and have so much to do?" her face contorted into a sneer as she looked her sister up and down with faintly concealed disgust.
"Dawn, please, don't do this," Buffy asked her, her own emotions simmering behind her veiled eyes.
"Do what, Buffy? Tell you the truth? After Sunnydale, I thought you'd be happy, you'd finally get the uncomplicated life you always wanted, but I was wrong." She stepped closer to her sister, her taller height making her look quite intimidating as she looked down on the older slayer. "Do you know what I think it is Buffy? I think it might have something to do with the fact that you're not the centre of attention anymore. We didn't need you to tell us what to do anymore."
"Dawn, that's not true!" Buffy protested furiously, her eyes sparkling with restrained anger.
"Yes, it is! Look at you! You spend you days moping around, doing nothing but staring out windows and ignoring the fact that there's danger out there that we need you for. We actually need you Buffy, and all you do is spend your time walking around telling us all how hopeless and pointless it is to fight! It's almost as if you're punishing us for not being your slaves when there was no danger!"
As Dawn's anger dissipated, Buffy's erupted explosively.
"How dare you! You know that's not true. I did everything I could, everything I could to stop what happened in the States." She shook her head tiredly and sighed as she focused on her younger sister, "I'm not punishing you, I'm being realistic, which is not something anybody could accuse you and Giles of being."
Stung, Dawn stepped back and away from her sister. Frustrated, Buffy held out an arm pleadingly to her sister.
"Dawn, I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean that the way it sounded," she sighed, and looked down at the worn grass, shaking her head. "We have to stop this. The constant fighting and bickering, it's driving me insane."
"I know," Dawn admitted, a shaky sigh emitting from her, "I just, I just don't get it Buffy. I don't understand why you've given up."
"I haven't given up, Dawn, I've just realised that I can't save the world on my own."
"But you're not alone, you have us," Dawn said, her expressive eyes shining brightly as she moved forward and grasped her sister's hand tightly. Smiling faintly, Buffy squeezed her sister's hand.
"I know, Dawnie, but…I'm tired, and to be honest, I don't think there's a whole lot we can do."
"But we can try, can't we?"
Buffy hesitated for a moment, but seeing her sister's pleading expression was her undoing, "yes, we can try."
Dawn moved forward, embracing her warmly, "I knew you wouldn't give up, not really!"
Buffy held her closely and closed her eyes as she clung to her younger sister. "I'll do my best, Dawn, I promise."
Papers were scattered all around the kitchen floor, while their author continued to furiously work strange images and long entangled formulas over the sheaves of paper. Giles picked up one crude, but graphic image, of a vampire holding a human heart while his victim was tied up before him head hung, and blood running down his chest.
Instantly, he was aware of her intense gaze focused on him and he cleared his throat as he placed the sheet back where it was, her eyes following the sheet's movement.
"Oh, well, yes," he said uncomfortably, smiling at her, "very…detailed, Winifred. Um, very interesting pictures. You, you just work away and I'll be over on the other side of the room, near the door."
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously and followed his movements with her penetrating gaze.
His foot slipped, and he frowned as he looked down at a forgotten sheet of paper lying strewn on the tiled floor. He picked it up, expecting to be equally disturbed as he had been with the previous images. His heart stopped for a beat, and he grip tightened on the paper, crumpling the edges. She'd never win any prizes for her artistic ability, but even he would recognise the figure in the picture. It was badly drawn, but the dark hair and glasses made him instantly recognisable. Splotches of red marred the drawing in several areas, his groin, his left breast, a jagged line down his chest, and a large red blob where he eye should have been.
Before he had time to take in the picture, it was snatched from his hands. Fred looked angrily at him, her eyes bright and feral. She smooth the edges of the paper, before a whimper escaped from her lips, and in a frenzy ripped the paper into as small pieces as she could manage. She cried and yelled, her sobs wracking her small frame, and she fell to the ground a quivering mess.
Giles tentatively knelt down beside her and lightly stroked her shoulder. She jerked back and scuttled across the floor away from his touch, her eyes wary and red rimmed. His gaze was full of compassion and he whispered to her, "my dear girl, what horrors have you seen?"
She ignored him, and the brief moment of humanity she had let him glimpse at, fell away as she once again became distracted with her morning's activities. He watched her, careful not to make any sudden moves so as not to frighten her until her gaze eventually fell once again to a sheet of paper before her, and dismissed him as not worthy of her concern.
Her brow furrowed in concentration, a few wrinkles on her forehead appeared as she scribbled wildly on the reams of paper and threw them around the place. He watched her fascinated, how quickly her hand moved across the pages, how swiftly she had written phrases and formulas. True, he didn't know if said formulas were of any us or even real, but she looked impressive composing them.
He followed the strewn sheets of paper lying carelessly around the small room and wondered, if perhaps, Fred might hold the secret miracle they'd all been praying for.