Chapter 76

The Welcome Home Party

The sun was starting to set as Buffy kicked at the heel of a shovel, digging dirt out of the ground near her mother's bed of azaleas in the back yard.

"Next time," she said, as Joyce knelt down to place a black garbage bag in the makeshift grave, "I get to pick the mother daughter bonding activity."

Joyce stood back up, her eyebrows knitted together with sorrow as Buffy shovelled dirt back into the grave. Buffy had presented a dead cat to her mother, who tearfully suggested that they give it a burial rather than pay Animal Control to take care of it.

"You want to… say something?" Joyce asked hopefully as Buffy brushed dirt off of her hands.

Buffy curled her lip at the unearthed patch of dirt. "Like what? Thanks for stopping by and dying?"

"How about, goodbye stray cat who lost its way. We hope you find it," Joyce said somberly, clasping her hands together in front of her khakis.

Buffy glanced at her mother, her stomach turning again. An irrational part of her had hoped that when she came back to Lima, everything would be fixed. Santana would still be gone, but at least Buffy would still have her friends and she could wrap herself in her mother's arms and feel like a kid again. She was wrong. Her friends didn't want her in their lives anymore. Even though her mother was glad to have her back, Buffy could tell that she was still hurting, and there wasn't anything her daughter could do.

xxx

"It's not that I'm not happy that she's back," said Rachel, her paintbrush trailing over the construction paper that Sofia picked up for her, "It's just that she's missed so much and I'm still pretty ticked at her for just bailing on us. If we start spending quality time together, I'm either going to have to pretend that everything's fine or we're going to end up having an argument, and I don't want to do either of those things."

Quinn sat on a stool at the other end of the Lopez's Spanish style kitchen island with her laptop, typing up an essay.

"The longer you put it off, the harder it's going to be," Quinn said absentmindedly, her eyes not leaving her screen. Her Motley Crew tank was riding up her abdomen.

Rachel painted a pink curl on the last 'L' in 'Make McKinley Beautiful'. The time she spent working on her campaign was time ignoring her problems with Buffy.

"I know I'm going to offend her," Rachel sighed, "I just don't want her to start calling the shots again. She doesn't get to do that after everything she's done. It's not fair."

"You don't have to worship her as your leader," Quinn snorted, "But if you keep avoiding her, you'll lose her as a friend forever. I mean, she is making an effort."

Rachel groaned and looked up at her girlfriend. "You're going to make me go to this party, aren't you?"

"I'm not going to make you do anything. You have all night to decide."

Rachel exhaled, staring back down at her campaign poster. "How is it that you're so supportive of her, when she's not around?"

"Buffy had a whole public school obsessed with her. She doesn't need one more person feeding her ego. I'm just keeping her grounded," said Quinn, raising her head and winking at her girlfriend.

Rachel contained a smirk as she leaned over to continue painting. After a moment, Quinn closed the lid of her laptop and peered imploringly at the brunette.

"What?" asked Rachel, keeping her head bowed as she met Quinn's eyes.

"Let's take advantage of the pool before fall closes in on us," said Quinn, swinging her legs around the stool and hopping down, away from the island.

"No," Rachel shook her head, "I have to concentrate on this campaign."

"Come on, no-one takes student council this seriously," Quinn groaned, leaning against the island.

"I do. I have to win this."

"Like your applications won't look good enough-"

"They won't. There are some serious candidates for NYADA. So far, I haven't won a single show choir competition or starred in a school play."

"You don't have to put this much work into student council to win class president. People have won doing a lot less."

"Yes, but those people were popular. I have to put in the effort - I'm the least popular candidate."

"That's not true-"

"Yes, it is. I know Kurt had to leave last year because of bullying, but coming back made people respect him and like him more. I'm still practically invisible."

"I find that hard to believe."

"It doesn't matter what you believe," said Rachel, painting over the L as soon as it had dried, "It's the truth. People like Kurt better than me, so I have to be… better."

Quinn leaned over the island, a strip of bare skin on her stomach touching the cold tile, making her shiver as she clasped Rachel's free hand.

"What makes you think that people don't like you?"

Rachel snorted. "Quinn, people hate me. You hated me for years."

Quinn drew her hand back and frowned, staring at the surface of the island. "That was different."

"How is that different? People think of me now what you thought of me then. That I'm an annoying, overachieving, self-obsessed, delusional loser."

Quinn pursed her lips. She hated to hear Rachel talk about herself like that, especially because it echoed the comments Quinn and her Cheerio minions used to make about her in freshman year.

"I was going through some stuff. The only reason I tortured you like that is because, obviously, deep down, I had feelings for you that I didn't understand."

Rachel's face softened. "I know, and I never want to hold that against you, but… You weren't the only one who treated me that way. People would still be treating me that way if they weren't so afraid of you."

"They're just intimidated by you."

Rachel snorted derisively.

"They are," said Quinn, "I was. Everyone knows that you're ambitious and talented. You're going somewhere, and the rest of us are… stuck."

Rachel frowned. "You're not stuck."

"No, I'm not. Not now that I have you."

Rachel blushed down at her poster. "Well, maybe people respect me more than I give them credit for, but that doesn't mean that they like me."

xxx

Kurt was in the same meadow, surrounded by lilacs, trying to resist the urge to follow a doorway into someone else's dream. He needed a moment's rest to soothe himself. He was just glad that he had Blaine to help him along with his campaign, because he couldn't handle it all by himself. It was only the first week of school and he felt his grades slipping at a time when he could not afford them to.

He felt something illuminate in front of his eyelids as he laid with his eyes closed. His lashes fluttered open as he adjusted to the light and saw a doorway open right in front of him. Stubbornly, he closed his eyes again, folding his arms over his chest and forcing himself to smell the fragrant flowers and feel the grass brush against his bare forearms. He ignored the doorway, but his eyelids pulled open and the light illuminated him.

He was in the white plane of nothingness and the only other person there was his mother. The same blond hair. The same white dress. Kurt couldn't even be angry that he had been pulled away from his own dream to be apart of this vision. Any time he got to see his mother was precious - even if it wasn't real.

"Kurt, I need your help," she said.

She looked serene, as always, but her voice was tensed, like there was an urgent danger.

"What is it?" Kurt asked, his eyebrows pulling together.

"I need you to come closer," she said, "I need you to set me free."

Kurt stared at his mother's frightened face. "I don't… understand."

"Come closer, you have to see. You have to see."

"See what? I don't understand. Tell me what's wrong."

"Be brave, Kid," she said softly.

The dream ended and Kurt blinked his eyes open, the confusion and alarm left over from the vision still eminent, bouncing in his ribcage. It was morning and he didn't feel like he had gotten a wink of sleep.

xxx

The hallways were eerily empty. A rogue flyer was stuck to a trash can, with not even a slight breeze to shake it off. Buffy pushed a door open to find one of the classrooms empty, too. The whole school was completely desolate, but Buffy felt a hand on her shoulder.

"I thought they would be here," she said as Santana moved beside her, looking respectful in a black blouse and black jeans, her hair hanging bone straight on each side of her face.

"They are," Santana replied, "They're waiting for you, Slayer."

"Am I dreaming?"

Santana smiled, more carefree than Buffy had ever seen her look. "I'm probably the wrong person to be asking about that. You'd better go."

"I'm scared."

"You should be," Santana said matter-of-factly.

The bell rang, sounding like evenly paced, angry beeps. Buffy furrowed her brow and rolled over in bed to find the bell was actually her alarm clock. She slammed her fist down on it, smashing the plastic for the third time since she'd had it. She smoothed back her messy hair and realized that it had been a dream. As she lifted herself out of bed, she realized she didn't have anywhere she needed to be. Still, she got dressed and went downstairs to rummage through the fridge for something heavier than cereal.

"I've been talking to the superintendent," Joyce announced as she poured herself coffee, "He seems more reasonable than Figgins. I'm going to speak with him this afternoon. As for private schools, Miss Porter's accepts late admissions. I wrote down the information for you-"

"A girl's school?" Buffy sneered, letting the refrigerator door fall closed, "So now it's blazers, kilts and no boys? Why don't we just add in a little footbinding?"

"Buffy," Joyce frowned, her hand laid on the private school paperwork on the counter, "You made some bad choices. You may just have to live with some consequences."

Buffy pursed her lips and opened the fridge again, pretending to look for something. Joyce sighed, taking the trash bag out from under the sink and tying it closed.

"Nothing's settled yet," she said, "I just wish you didn't have to be so secretive about things. I mean, it's not your fault you have a… special circumstance. They should make allowances for you."

"Mom, please, I'm a slayer. It's not like I have to ride the short bus to school," Buffy frowned, letting the fridge close again.

"Couldn't you tell just a few people?" asked Joyce, padding to the back door, her hand on the knob, "Like Principal Figgins? The police department? I'm sure they'd be happy to have a superhero- Is that the right term? Is that offensive?"

Joyce yelped and Buffy whipped around to see her mother drop the trash bag on the floor as cat darted inside the half-opened back door. A tabby cat, padding dirt-covered paw prints into the tiles.

xxx

"I think I need to tell you guys something."

Mike's father briefly glanced over the top of The Daily Lima, his coffee getting cold on the rectangular kitchen table. His mother looked questioningly over the green tea she had brought to her lips, the sunlight from the breakfast nook bathing all of them. Mike had finished his Cinnamon Toast Crunch and drained the sugary milk before deciding to do what he'd been avoiding for the last couple days.

"What is it, Mikey?" Mrs. Chang asked sweetly, her brown eyes aflutter.

Mike balled his hands into fists and laid them on the table. "Tina and I broke up."

His father looked up again, lowering his paper. "Is that so? What happened?"

Mike cleared his throat. "We just realized that we were too different."

Mr. Chang nodded. "Good for you. She was dampening your potential."

Mrs. Chang cast a disdainful glance at her husband, and looked lovingly back at her son. "Oh, Mike, are you okay?"

Mike nodded. "I'm fine… I just thought that you guys should know."

Mr. Chang's cell-phone started to ring on the table and he quickly snatched it and pressed the Answer button.

"Sir?" he said, and paused, "Of course."

Mr. Chang rose from his seat and wandered into the other room, talking furtively into his phone.

Mrs. Chang looked sheepishly at her son. "He's been so busy with work. There's that big project coming up."

"Yeah," Mike nodded, taking his cereal bowl and rising from the table before Mrs. Chang laid a hand on his wrist. Mike looked down at his mother, whose eyes were trying to apologize.

"I'm sorry about Tina. She was a sweet girl."

"Yeah," Mike said quietly, "She still is. We're just… we want different things."

xxx

"Welcome to the Hellmouth petting zoo."

Will got onto his knees to take a look inside the small, gated pet cage that was lying on the edge of Joyce's bed. The tabby cat curled around inside, its fur matted with dirt, hissing and moaning like it was dying.

"The smell…" Will coughed, standing up and backing away from the cage.

"Not exactly new car smell," Buffy said with her hands on her hips, curling her upper lip as she peered at the cat.

Joyce stood by the door, fingering her necklace, her eyes bugged out at the pet cage.

"I'll take it back to my office and… examine it," Will said, frowning, as he turned and saw a wooden, carved mask hanging on Joyce's bedroom wall, "Interesting decorations."

"It's Nigerian," Joyce said, still looking half stunned and clutching her necklace, "I have this dealer who specializes in ancient-"

"You know I love the art talk as much as the next very dull person," Buffy said, "But Will, shouldn't we go get into research mode?"

Will looked uncomfortable. "I think you should stay with your mom, Buffy. I'm sure you have lots of-"

"No, it's fine," Joyce shrugged, "She can go with you."

"Actually, she can't," Will frowned and looked apologetically at Buffy, "You're not allowed on school grounds."

"Oh," Buffy said, surprised and turning pink, "Well, that's a first. I want to go to school but the school doesn't want me."

"I'm sorry. I'll call as soon as I know something."

"And we'll see you tonight?" Joyce asked hopefully, "At dinner?"

"Of course," Will smiled, "Tonight."

xxx

Kurt traced circles on his Chemistry textbook. He was supposed to be sketching molecular bonds, or, at the very least, working on his campaign, but he was doing neither. He was tracing circles and thinking about his mother. In the vision he'd had last night, she seemed desperate for his help. So much so that he had to keep reminding himself that his mother was dead and couldn't possibly need help - but that thought only led him back to the story of how she died. Her soul floating around in the universe she'd wished for at the hands of the Djinn. A world where she wasn't the slayer. Where she could be happy. Even if her soul was somehow experiencing life in an alternate universe, why would she want to be saved?

"Lance agreed to give us the stage at seven, so I'm thinking we should be there by at least five thirty to rehearse and work out the kinks. Did you want to look over your speech now?"

Kurt looked up from his textbook to see Blaine sitting beside him at one of the concrete picnic tables in the courtyard, surrounded by flyers and printed sheets of paper, smiling encouragingly.

"I'm sorry… what? Who's Lance?"

Blaine's face went blank. "The manager of The Bronze?"

"Oh, okay. I give my speech at seven."

"Mm hm. Rachel's giving a speech at Breadstix but we know there will be more people from school at The Bronze. I also convinced Marcie to give us the front page of The McKinley Times - I wrote an article about how much you cared about McKinley."

Kurt blanched. "I haven't even started writing a speech."

"Got you covered," Blaine smiled, sliding a laminated sheet of paper across the table.

"Blaine, thank you," Kurt said gratefully, even though he winced to see that the speech started with, 'My fellow Americans', "I've been off my game lately, because of the dreams."

"That reminds me," said Blaine, rummaging through his backpack and taking out a thin binder, opening to the first page, "I have a list of candidates for Finn."

"Excuse me?"

"Girls, to set up with Finn," said Blaine, "You said you wanted to play Cupid. Get him a girlfriend so that he'd stop having vulgar dreams about Rachel."

"Oh, right," said Kurt, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I take it you have a few ideas."

Blaine grinned and nodded. "Okay, we have Lynette Barger. She's in his Statistics class and plays the cymbals in the marching band. Um, Celeste, she's a Cheerio, but she has low self esteem because of this neckbrace - it was because of this accident from last year's Nationals - anyways, she's getting it off in a couple months, so-"

"Blaine, when do you sleep?"

Blaine smiled and clasped his hands together on the tabletop. "This whole campaign has really brought my organizational skills to light. Maybe I could have a future in politics. Or… event planning."

"It's only been a week," Kurt reminded him, "But thank you. I appreciate it. I've barely been able to function. I feel like I'm seriously sleep deprived. I don't even know if I should go to this dinner thing tonight-"

"You should definitely go," said Blaine, and sighed, "How will it look if you don't? Everyone's been avoiding Buffy. I get it, you're all mad at her, but clearly something bad happened last spring. She made a bad choice but she was just trying to… escape, whatever it was that happened. And I'm willing to bet what that something was."

Kurt shifted uncomfortably. "I don't think anyone wants to say it."

"I know," Blaine nodded, "But if… if Santana died, before we could save her, it would have destroyed Buffy. Maybe it did. Maybe that's what happened."

Kurt breathed through his nose. "I know. I want to be there for her, I do. I just also want to be there for Rachel and Tina. We really bonded this summer and I got to see how hurt they were by Buffy's absence."

"I'm sure we can find a way to all be friends," said Blaine, "And maybe we can start the mending process at dinner tonight."

"Guys," called Quinn.

Kurt and Blaine looked up to see her leaning against one of the railings on the edge of the courtyard. She jerked her head in the direction of the main school building, coaxing them to come follow her.

"I really hope this isn't about the campaign," Kurt muttered as he and Blaine gathered their things and rose from the picnic table.

The scoobies gathered in Will's office, where a pet cage sat on top of his desk, and a tabby cat yowled inside, smelling like death.

"What is this?" asked Kurt, wrinkling his nose as Quinn led them in. Rachel and Tina were already there.

"Zombie cat," Tina said, marveling at the cage as she sat at the desk, her laptop loading up a Google search on 'reanimation'.

"Looks dead. Smells dead. Moving around," said Quinn.

"Interesting," said Blaine.

"Buffy found it last night," Will exclaimed, "Dead. She buried it, but it… well, it rose from the grave."

"I like him," Quinn said jokingly, leaning over to take a look into the mouth of the cage, "We should name him Patches."

Rachel looked back at the boys. "Are you going to Buffy's dinner tonight?" she asked.

Kurt and Blaine glanced at each other, and Kurt gave Rachel a tight nod. "Yeah."

"Okay," Rachel nodded. She had told Quinn that she would attend Buffy's dinner party if everyone else was going. She didn't want to be the only one to not turn up. "Should we bring something?"

"Like what?" asked Tina, looking up from her laptop, "Dip?"

"Well, what kind of party is this?" asked Blaine, "Is this a sophisticated social gathering, because if so, I think brie is in order, maybe some light jazz."

"I hate brie," commented Tina.

"I hate jazz," said Quinn.

"What would we talk about at a gathering, anyways?" asked Rachel, "'So, Buffy, did you meet any prostitutes with hearts of gold on your worldly travels? And b-t-dubs, thanks for putting us through hell for the past six months.'"

"Rachel," Quinn raised her eyebrows, surprised by her girlfriend's cattiness.

"You know what I mean," Rachel sighed, "She doesn't want to talk about what happened and neither do we. Maybe we should invite some other people. Let them know that Buffy's back in town. Play some music. Dance. Not talk."

"Buffy did say she wanted to do some regular kid stuff. I think a party qualifies," said Tina.

Will sighed. "Guys, I'm not sure that's what Buffy's going for. She just got home. She's feeling disoriented. Maybe we should keep things more intimate."

"But what would be a better 'welcome back' than a big Buffy party?" Rachel asked aloud, splaying her hands out at her sides.

"So we have one vote for an intimate party from Mr. Schuester and how many votes for fun?" asked Kurt, raising a hand.

The others raised their hands with him and Mr. Schue shook his head, defeated.

"Fine," he said, "Have it your way. I'm just glad she's back. Now things can get back to normal."

xxx

Buffy felt a little bizarre, standing in a living room full of people she barely knew. She had anticipated that this dinner party would be awkward, but she hadn't expected this. She'd been setting the dining room table when Stoner Brett showed up with a bunch of college freshman slackers who claimed to be apart of his reggae band. They were playing the steel drums right now in front of her fireplace. Her mother hadn't even been mad when half of her senior class showed up. She even seemed proud that Buffy had been so popular.

The thing was, Buffy barely knew most of the people at her house right now. They didn't even seem to know that they were at someone's welcoming party. They were just dancing around in the living room, spilling out into the hallway, spiked sodas sloshing around in their red plastic cups. Buffy felt surreally out of place, like something out of a Dali painting. She gripped her own Diet Mountain Dew can and spotted Tina sitting at the edge of the couch across the room, absentmindedly bopping her head to the beat of the drums. She had been hard to spot because she didn't look like her usual self, decked in black lace and purple lipstick. She looked… sad.

Buffy weaved through the dancing teenagers and took a seat on the arm of the sofa.

"Hey," she yelled over the music and the talking.

"Hey," Tina nodded to her, looking uncomfortable.

"So this party is… large."

"You like it?"

"Yeah, it's great. I was thinking it be just us. You know, the gang."

"What?" Tina yelled, shaking her head.

"This is great, but I still want to hang with just-"

Tina shook her head and pointed to her ears, mouthing, 'I can't hear you.' Buffy almost got up and wandered away, but she decided to lay a hand on Tina's arm and leaned into her ear.

"Is everything okay?" she asked right into Tina's ear, "I feel kind of like you're avoiding me."

Tina laughed nervously. "I'm not avoiding you. We're talking. I'm here. You're here."

"So we're cool?"

"Totally. That's why… you know, the party. We're glad you're back."

"Okay," Buffy said uncertainly.

Tina nodded and stared at the band, and Buffy moved off of the sofa, weaving back through the partygoers, wondering why she didn't feel any better. She squirmed her way out of the living room and darted down the hall, looking for a quiet moment. She turned the corner to see Rachel pinned against the door of the basement with Quinn against her, the pink-haired girl's hands splayed on the wall behind her girlfriend, the studded lapels of her leather jacket riding against Rachel's houndstooth sweater-dress. Buffy cleared her throat, averting her eyes and staring at the floorboard.

"Buffy!" Rachel gasped, her cheeks turning bright pink.

She swatted one of Quinn's hands away and smoothed down her dress, clearing her throat, embarrassed. Quinn took a step back and kept one hand leaned against the wall, dropping her hip and keeping her gaze on Rachel. The brunette looked mortified but Quinn looked somewhat proud of herself. She finally pulled her eyes away from Rachel and gave Buffy an uncommitted glance.

"What's up, Slayer?" she asked, her voice sultry smooth, making Buffy flinch.

"What's wrong?" asked Rachel, her face still pink.

"Nothing, just…" Buffy trailed off, staring at Quinn, "Is that Santana's jacket?"

Quinn's grin disappeared and she glanced down at the black leather jacket she was wearing over a Sex Pistols t-shirt and a red pencil skirt. "Uh, yeah," she mumbled.

"Impressive turn-out, huh?" asked Rachel, smiling nervously, jerking her head towards the sounds of Brett's reggae band, "It looks like a lot of people are glad that you're back."

"Yeah, people I didn't even know," Buffy nodded, "Did Will say he was going to be late?"

"He was doing research in his office the last time I saw him," Rachel shrugged, "But he'll be here. He missed you. We all did."

"Yeah," Quinn nodded, looking at Rachel, "But the bait-and-switch routine was kind of a turn on."

"Quinn," Rachel gasped, batting at her girlfriend's arm, pretending to be embarrassed but looking insanely pleased with herself, her smile stretching across her face.

"I'll just…" Buffy trailed off awkwardly and wandered away, leaving Quinn and Rachel to nuzzle each other.

The last time she had seen those two, they had finally become friends. A complicated pair of friends, oddly invested in each other, but still. Buffy hadn't prepared herself for that. She walked around the staircase and through the hallway on the other side, her hand trailing against the wall that lead to the kitchen. She walked to the doorway when she heard her mother's voice on the other side, having a conversation with Pat, her book club buddy.

"Having Buffy home… I thought it would make it all better," said Joyce.

Buffy's stomach dropped at the sound of her name.

"But in some ways," Joyce continued, "It's almost worse."

Buffy's mouth fell open. She ran upstairs before she knew what she was doing. She closed her bedroom door behind her and sniffed, determined not to cry, but her mother's comment had been a slap in the face. She knew that things were different. Harder. That her friends were avoiding her and her school didn't want her back. But she thought that her mother was the one person who wanted her back. The empty suitcase poking out of the bottom of her bed caught her eye. Maybe Lima really didn't need her. Maybe she could make it a better place by leaving.

xxx

Will had dozens of different books, all open on reanimation, studying as the zombie cat yowled hopelessly in its cage. He had just been about to give up for the night and drive to Buffy's house for her party, when he found a picture of an ancient relic that Tina had printed out earlier that day. It was a mask. Nigerian. He had seen it somewhere before.

"Oh, God."

He took out his cell and dialled Buffy's number. Whoever answered was a boy, and there was music and talking in the background that muffled his already slurred speech.

"Party villa. Blaze it!"

Will wrinkled his brow. "Is this… Buffy's phone?"

"This is somebody's phone," the boy laughed on the other line, "What can I do you for, old man?"

"I need to speak to Buffy, right now. It's an emergency."

"Bunny?"

"Buffy!"

"Hey! Is there a Buddy here?! I need a Buddy!" the boy called into the crowd. Will ran his hand through his hair. "Sorry, he's not here. You got the wrong casa, man."

The boy hung up and Will balled his hands into fists. He shoved the phone into his pocket, exasperated, and threw on his jacket.

xxx

Tina made her way upstairs. She couldn't find Buffy anywhere else. Quinn and Rachel said they saw her, but she disappeared. Tina wondered if they had snubbed her like she had. She had been planning on avoiding Buffy for as long as she could, but the guilt was starting to weigh on her. Clearly, Buffy wanted to start fresh, rectify her actions, but they weren't letting her. Tina couldn't imagine how she must have felt, but she was willing to bet that she was lonely. She turned the knob on Buffy's bedroom door and peered inside to see the blonde leaning over her bed, stuffing clothes into a suitcase, sniffing, with tears stuck in her hazel eyes.

Tina stared for a moment, trying to register what she was seeing. "You're leaving again?" Tina asked, her voice just barely working.

Buffy looked over at her, surprised, her hands hovering over the suitcase, with a blouse bunched between them. "Tina-"

"You're just going to run away, all over again? You're not even going to try to make things right?"

"I am trying-"

"Really? Because it looks a lot like giving up."

"Tina, please. I'm just trying to make things easier."

"For who, Buffy?"

"For you. None of you want me here. You're all doing just fine without me."

"We did the best we could. It's not like we had much of a choice."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I left, but you don't know what I went through."

"Because you never told anyone. I'm your best friend, you're supposed to talk to me."

"When am I supposed to talk to you? You're avoiding me like the black plague!"

"This isn't easy for me, Buffy. I know you're going through stuff, but so am I."

"I know you were worried-"

"No, not just that. A lot has been going on in my own life, Buffy. The most important… the only relationship I have ever had ended. I haven't told anybody yet but… I'm going away next year. To the Watchers' Academy."

Buffy's eyes widened. "…You're going to be a watcher?"

"Yeah. And if you had been around, I would've been able to share this important life stuff with you. But you didn't even ask about Mike when you came back. You're just worried about whether I'm mad at you or not."

Buffy opened her mouth but didn't say anything, stunned, and ashamed. "I'm sorry."

"I know you're sorry, but it's not enough."

"Tina, you have no idea how much I wanted to talk to you. I thought about you and the rest of the gang every day. I wanted to call-"

"It doesn't matter, Buffy, because you didn't!"

Buffy's face fell as her eyes moved over Tina's head, and Tina turned to see Joyce standing in the open doorway, her eyes fixed on the suitcase on Buffy's bed.

"This is a joke, right?" she asked, finally looking at Buffy.

"Mom," Buffy's stomach fell, "Can you just-"

"No, I can't just, Buffy," said Joyce, looking betrayed, "What is this?"

"She was running away again," Tina muttered, folding her arms.

"I wasn't!" Buffy exclaimed, "I mean, I'm not sure what-"

"Well, you better get sure, and explain yourself, right away," Joyce demanded, "If you think you can just take off whenever-"

"Stop! Just stop, okay?" Buffy exclaimed, bursting into tears, running her hands through her hair, "I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing!"

She ran out of the room and down the stairs, still unsure of where she was going, but feeling an overwhelming urge to escape. She headed for the front door but her mother was hot on her heel.

"Don't you dare leave this house young lady!" Joyce shouted, nearly hysterical.

People started to turn toward the commotion as the steel drums halted and Stoner Brett and his friends lifted their heads to look at the women fighting.

"Mom, please-" Buffy started as she spotted Quinn and Rachel approaching from the hall.

"No, Buffy, I don't care what your friends think of me, or you, for that matter. You have put me through the wringer all summer. Do you have any idea what it was like?"

"Mom-"

"No, you can't imagine. Months of not knowing whether you were living it up somewhere or dead in a ditch-"

"But you told me!" Buffy shouted, tears continuing to spill down her face, "You said, 'If you leave this house, don't come back.' You found out who I was and you couldn't handle it, remember?"

Joyce huffed, putting her hands on her hips. "You didn't give me any time. You just dumped this thing on me and expected me to get it. Well, guess what? Mom's not perfect. I handled it badly. But that doesn't give you the right to punish me-"

"Punish you? I wasn't trying to punish you."

"Well, you did," said Kurt

Buffy's head darted to the living room arch where he was standing, staring steadfast at Buffy, with Blaine awkwardly looking between them over his shoulder.

"Kurt-" Buffy sighed.

"You left and you have no idea what it did to her."

Buffy looked around. "Why is everbody attacking me right now?!"

"Because I know what it's like when someone disappears, Buffy. When you have no idea what happened to them or what you're supposed to do about it. When it's someone you love. Maybe you thought you were doing the right thing, but you weren't."

"Great," Buffy smiled sarcastically, "Does anybody else care to weigh in?"

"Yes," said Rachel, walking forward, her eyes already apologetic as she laid them on Buffy.

"Rachel," Buffy sighed, "Please, I can't hear this right now-"

"We know you don't want to hear it, Buffy, but he's right. You hurt a lot of people."

"So now it's time for all of you to gang up on me?"

People were slipping out of the front door and wandering away from the scene, but most were hanging back, staring at the argument ensuing. Tina stood behind Joyce, looking almost guilty, like she had started the grande blowout.

"We're not ganging up on you," Quinn said bluntly, her hands in her jacket pockets, "But taking off like that was selfish and stupid."

"Okay, I screwed up, I know that, alright? But you have no idea what I was going through," said Buffy.

"Did you even try talking to anybody?" asked Rachel.

"There wasn't any point. There was nothing anyone could do. I had to deal with it on my own."

"And we all see how well that went," Quinn muttered.

"You can't just bury stuff, Buffy," Rachel said softly, "It always comes back up."

"You wouldn't have understood-"

"Because you were the only one who lost Santana?" Quinn asked, accustorily, "She was my best friend and I managed not to hop a Greyhound out of grief."

Buffy scoffed. "No, this grunge-chic identity crisis is totally a healthy way of dealing with it."

"What the Hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You're wearing all of her clothes. Calling me Slayer, acting all… broody. You really think pink hair makes you cool and edgy?"

"Screw you, Runaway Barbie, I was the one who picked up the slack when you left to have a pity party. You're so pathetic-"

"Keep piling on, Quinn, your It Girl complex hasn't quite rounded itself out yet."

Quinn laughed. "Alright, you stop acting like an idiot, I'll stop piling on."

"You're calling me an idiot… Pink Ranger?"

"Okay, you guys need to calm down," said Blaine, brushing past Kurt to stand between Buffy and Quinn, afraid a cat fight might break out.

"Just let them go at it, Blaine," Kurt said, unimpressed, "Talking about it isn't solving anything. We may as well try violence."

The party guests flinched as something crashed through the Summers' living room window. Bursting through shards of glass and drapery was a man whose flesh was falling off of his body. His eyes were dead and lifeless as he shuffled toward them. The partiers screamed and scattered throughout the house, some of them making it to the door, but most of them flailing around in a panic.

"I was being sarcastic!" Kurt cried, as Quinn darted forward and threw a flame from the palm of her hand.

The zombie caught fire but flailed dangerously close to the curtains and the other guests. More zombies were pounding at the front and back doors, trapping most of the gang's classmates into the house.

"Are you trying to burn the house down?!" Buffy exclaimed, grabbing Quinn by the shoulders and pulling her back from the flaming zombie. She ran across the room and grabbed a fireplace poker, tossing it to the other girl. "Kitchen!"

Quinn nodded in a way that said she'd have Buffy's back and darted toward the kitchen with Rachel. Buffy picked up the torn drapes and smothered the flaming zombie with them. He was lying still, but more were tumbling through the broken window. Joyce picked up a vase and smashed it over one of their heads, but the zombie was unfazed.

"Are these vampires?" Joyce asked her daughter uncertainly.

"No," said Buffy, punching one back and watching several teeth fall loose and clatter to the floor.

While the zombie reeled, Buffy grabbed a stake that had once been taped to the bottom of the coffee table and slammed it into the zombie's chest. Nothing happened.

"Nope. Definitely not."