"What are you waiting for?"

Dawn is sitting on the floor at the base of the bed, leaning back while Tara sits cross-legged at the edge. Tara's hands thread through Dawn's hair, weaving a lock into the braid. "Hm?"

Dawn's trying to be patient. She's not little-kid Dawn, anymore. She's teenager-adult-understandy Dawn. The one that Buffy talks to like a peer, now. "With Willow."

Tara's hands pause mid-braid. "Dawnie," she says in a tone that's clearly meant to temper expectations.

"No, not that," She rolls her eyes. "I mean like . . . why aren't you in there talking to her?" The fingers on her head resume their movement. "Not that I'm complaining," she quickly amends. "Soooo not complaining, here, but—" she turns around, all of Tara's braiding falling loose down her shoulders, "Don't you want to talk to her?"

Dawn's not an idiot. She's seen her fair share of adult relationships these past few years and is familiar with their shifts and shakes; how they grow and die, tear or heal. She's seen Xander and Anya, Buffy and Spike, Willow and Tara—Tara, who's here. Here! Alive! Tara who somehow found a way back to them from wherever she was, who was in here braiding hair instead of out there with Willow.

Not that Dawn isn't cherishing every second of it. It's more than she ever thought she'd have again. It's everything she lost on that carpet, everything she'd craved over the summer—Tara's safe and comforting presence. Tara, who somehow made everything okay, even when the world was upside down and hurting. It's a miracle. But she knows that as much as Tara loves her, she shouldn't be in this room right now. She isn't hurt by that knowledge, just baffled by it. She wants to understand.

And not that she thinks there'll be a romantic reunion either, of Willow and Tara falling into each other's arms with tears and kisses, like everything was fixed. She isn't naive. Well, there has been crying. But not like that. She knows there's a lot to work through. There is a lot for Tara to know and for Willow to say. Willow is still learning how to exist like it isn't painful. She hears her cry at night sometimes. She hears the nightmares.

She knows Tara coming back doesn't mean things are fixed, only that things are better. If there's anything Tara's taught her, it is that things take time to fix.

But instead, things between them are broken and, not talking isn't helping them get fixed any sooner. "You don't have to try and protect me, I'm not a little kid anymore. I know it isn't going to be easy, but . . ." she trails off, letting the point linger.

Tara nudges Dawn's shoulder to have her turn back around and resumes playing with her hair. "You're right," she admits, just as Dawn is sure she isn't going to respond at all. "You're not a little girl anymore, Dawnie, you haven't been for a while. There's a lot for us to talk about and . . . you're right about it not being easy. Which is why, I think, the rest of tonight should be as easy as we can make it." Tara finishes the braid, tucking stray ends into the folds, smoothing things to where they're supposed to be.

"I guess that makes sense. It is really late," Dawn admits, glancing at the clock.

"And someone has school in the morning."

"Ohmygod, please tell me you're joking," Dawn spins around in mock alarm. "There's no way you're actually making me go to school tomorrow." Tara crosses her arms, and raises an eyebrow, making a very clear "I-am-serious" face. "Oh come on," Dawn protests, smacking a pillow. "You came back from the dead."

Tara thinks a moment. "Fine. You can miss first period."

Dawn throws her arms up in disbelief. "First period?!"

Tara's quirks a half-smile. "Like you said, it is really late. Can't have you falling asleep in chemistry."

Pouting, Dawn flops down dramatically. "Chemistry is my first period," she grumbles.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay with me going to school tomorrow?"

Buffy fluffs a pillow and tosses it on the bed, flopping down next to Willow. Tucked tightly under the covers, Willow's lying stiff as a board looking up at the ceiling. "I'll be fine, Buffy."

"Uh huh. Cause you seem totally fine, lying there staring at the ceiling like a corpse." Willow turns to her side, propping her head up to glare at Buffy. "What, like I'm wrong?"

Willow pouts furiously. "No, but you don't have that many days off, and knowing us, they should probably be saved for an apocalypse. Preferably one that isn't my fault."

"What, this doesn't count?"

Willow shakes her head. "No," she says firmly. "I don't know what I did, but so far, the world isn't ending yet."

"Will, she said she did it."

"I know. But I don't have the best grip on this whole magic thing, yet. Remember what happened when I came back to Sunnydale? What if—"

"What if you made this happen just by thinking it?" Buffy finishes for her.

There's a look of abject misery on her face. Willow nods.

Buffy sighs. "Will, if you could, don't you think it would've already happened months ago?" Willow opens her mouth to argue, but the logic is enough to give her pause. Buffy slides one arm out from under her and reaches across to lay it on Willow's. She angles her head, signifying seriousness. "We're gonna figure this out ."

Willow's chin wobbles and she bites her lip to try and steady it, desperately wanting to believe. "Maybe," she acknowledges. "But what if you're right, and she's the thing from beneath us? The thing that's supposed to devour us?"

"Listen, Will, I'm the first one to not trust anything that seems like it could be even a remotely threatening possibility. Especially when it comes to this. To you. To Dawn. Not when I've just gotten both of you back. I'm itching to fight and ready to take her down if she so much as blinks the wrong way. But you can't tell me whatever weird thing happened to us outside didn't make you think twice about it being real."

"I'm scared," Willow admits, starting to tear up again.

Buffy thinks about making it back to the house at the beginning of the summer, an equally dishevelled and exhausted Dawn at her side. The police tape stretched across the door, barring entry. How they sat, dazed and empty, as Xander pulled up to the house a while later to pick them up, a small figure huddled in the backseat. The aftermath suddenly looming paralyzingly large. "We'll figure it out," Xander had said, glancing back toward Willow in the car.

"I know, Will," Buffy says. "Me too. We'll figure it out, I promise."