Silent tears tracked down her face on the way home. She wiped them away every so often when she felt them pooling at the bottom of her chin, thick wet rivulets dripping off her face.

She was so screwed. She was so so so screwed.

Telling everyone the truth? Where on earth was she even supposed to start? It was so messy and dark and awful on the inside and not a single person close to her wanted to hear about any of it. They needed her peppy, unbeatable, cheerleading, monster-fighting, high-kicking Buffy and if they found out how close she was to the edge… How close she was to simply giving up…

If she forced all that darkness on them and verbally dumped the whole lot of it into their heads without warning, who would she have left!? Probably no one.

She felt trapped. Like a moth on fly paper. No way out but the most painful way. She'd have to rip herself out of their hearts because she couldn't possibly still fit into that space they'd given her once she shattered that illusion.

She wanted to hate Halfrek. But her self-loathing was taking up all the available emotional tokens and there was simply nothing left.

She sighed, running an arm under her nose. Get a grip. There's still me. No friends, no family, no hope there's still me.

Willow was checked off the list. Or at least half checked. How honest did she need to be here?

She didn't need to tell them… everything right?

She didn't need to tell them what she'd been doing with—

She cut herself off with a hard shake. No, it couldn't mean that.

Maybe she could talk to Dawn next, tackle this thing head-on. Her sister had been so desperate for intimacy since… all of it… but unsaid words had become such a disastrous wedge between them. Maybe it was time to de-wedge. Close that gap and say some truths and do some sibling sobbing and maybe move on some.

That or drive that wedge wider.

Good options, she thought bitterly.

The sun was nearly down when she shuffled up her front path, boots scraping pathetically on the gravel.

Buffy steeled herself. Get Dawn done, then Xander and Anya. Does Giles still count? Am I going to have to make a long-distance call?

I can't afford that!

Stupid frigging Halfrek, you can pay the phone bill…

She let herself in and deflated at how dark the house was.

"Dawn?" she called, before remembering she was having a sleepover with Janice. Great. So at least the night of being stuck in this truth curse. Fantastic. She dumped her bag at the door and drifted listlessly through to the kitchen.

She gasped, unable to stop herself nearly jumping out of her skin.

Spike smiled a long smug smile as he sat perched on the kitchen counter next to the sink. "'Evenin'."

Buffy swallowed, goosebumps pricking up on her arms at the possibly catastrophic scene about to unfold. Oh God, what am I going to say to him? What's going to come out of my mouth this time?! "What are you doing here?" she asked, still standing on the threshold to the dining room.

Maybe she could just bolt. Just make a run for it.

Except that he liked a chase. Yet another perverted game of theirs, but she had slipped out of frustration—where such distractions might be welcome—and into depression, and there just wasn't even a spark of energy left in her anymore.

He shrugged. "Thought I'd drop by, see if maybe you fancied playing out my new fantasy of pretending to be a loving and devoted couple for an hour or two." He kicked himself off the counter and took a couple more steps towards her. "Or at least seeing how sturdy that dining room table is. Wreck some of your furniture for a change."

Words were already starting to line up. Buffy could feel them. Squirming in her throat and starting to clog her mouth with wriggling undefeatable intent.

"You have to go," she said, hoping he would hear the plea in her voice and just leave.

He raised an eyebrow. "That came round faster than usual." He cocked his head, finally taking in her bloodshot eyes and watery eye-line. "What's wrong?"

Buffy pinched her mouth shut, shaking her head, swallowing down words and words and words, so many words that it was starting to hurt. "I-," she started and groaned. Her head felt like it was starting to swell with all the unsaid words. "I got… a little cursed."

"Did you now?" Spike chuckled. "Well, come here, gorgeous. Maybe I can kiss it better."

"Spike, I'm serious." She shook her head, taking a step back as he took another closer to her, nearly closing the gap between them. "I… I can't… lie."

The smirk faltered on his face as he cocked his head. "What do you mean?"

"I can't tell a lie. It's… the words change and… I can't control what I'm going to say." She beseeched him with a dejected look. "You have to go. Whatever I'm-" she broke off, shaking her head. He didn't count as part of her life, he wasn't allowed to count, she needed to break this curse away from him because if those floodgates opened… "I don't think I'm ready to say it. Any of it."

Spike took a second to process her words, going back over their last sex-drugged couple of weeks together and evaluating all the things she might have been keeping back from him. Considering carefully whether it would be to his benefit to hear it all now.

Or if it would be best to put those potential rejections off for another day.

He bobbed his head sadly in compliance and left without a look back.

The house felt so much darker without him in it. Cavernously empty. Buffy slid to the floor, burying her head in her arms, and took some deep aching breaths–

As if waiting for her guard to lower the doorbell rang.