Feedback: Would be yummy.
Spoilers: Up to the most recent ep.
Summary: Stuff happens. Buffy, Dawn and Angel deal.
Notes: Just ficstuff. I had to do something with these eps.

It was morning in the Summers house, hours before Buffy was usually awake. But she sat at the counter, staring hollowly into a cup of coffee. She was thinner than usual, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Taking another swallow of coffee, she grimaced. Usually she took the decaf stuff, with vanilla, and maybe the hazlenut stuff. It didn't matter, though. The bitter taste kept her anchored, and awake. Her mothers car keys sat in front of her.

*She's gone. She's gone. They won't let me see her, and she's dying.* Her hands tightened around the coffee mug. She bowed her head, and a sob caught in her throat.

"Buffy?"

She looked up, and saw Dawn in the doorway, in her Jedi Knight pajamas. The younger girl had a worried look on her face. "Dawn. It's early. You should go to bed." she told her sister.

"/You/ should go to bed." insisted Dawn. "Come on, Buffy. You've been up all night. You can't help Mom like this..."

"I have to stay awake." Buffy covered her face with her hands, letting her elbows rest on the counter. "Bad things always happen when I relax." Her elbows slid, she almost hit the counter, then caught herself.

"You've been up for two straight days." Dawn argued, her face worried. "You can't help Mom if you die of exhaustion." Buffy's shoulders slumped, and Dawn hurried forwards. "Come on. Let's go to bed. We'll sleep in Mom's bed, okay? So when she comes come we'll be waiting for her."

Buffy allowed herself to be dragged upstairs. But even as she was laying down to sleep, she felt it. The gnawing guilt...

***

Night was always dark in Sunnydale, especially in the woods and hills around the town. Buffy cherished the darkness, feeling the pull that had been so familiar. Now the darkness was soothing. It seemed to sing to her, bringing her comfort. And it kept vampires and demons away. But the soothing presence dropped away as she neared the mansion, and a car sped by, through a puddle. Soaked from head to toe, Buffy sighed, and hurried into the mansion.

Across the street, in the bushes, Tara lowered the sheet of obsidian glass and the candle. Rolling her eyes in frustration, she turned and hurried away.

Inside the mansion, Buffy collapsed onto the hearthstone of the fireplace in the former chapel. The tears she'd been holding back spilled out as she cried bitterly. The wet clothes clung, the cold sinking into her. She'd give anything for it to go away. *I want to be numb...* she thought, staring into the dead ashes of the fireplace. *No one lives here now. Why did I come here?*

"Because it's time. Your journey has finished." a lisping yet breathy voice replied behind her. "Misery has got its claws into you."

Buffy turned around to see Druscilla there. *Druscilla?* she thought distractedly. *But she's in Brazil...* She felt so strangely numb. Druscilla held Buffy's eyes with her own, walking slowly towards the Slayer.

"Little sister has come, and Mama's going away." Druscilla smiled dreamily. "And lover is a liar. Silky smooth, sleeping with the wolves...." She raised one finger to her lips, smiling devilishly. "But you don't care, do you?"

"No." answered the blonde, mesmerized.

"You only loved Daddy. And my Spike loves you, and so does the White Knight..." Druscilla made a beckoning motion. "And the others..." She closed the space between Buffy and herself so quickly Buffy didn't even see her move. "The men, they lust after you, little temptress. Stealing all men, and only wanting one." she whispered in Buffy ear over her shoulder, smiling as if she'd told a secret.

"It bruises." another voice hissed in her ear. Smooth as silk. "You hurt me with him. He hurt me. He killed me. You used him to kill me. Took him away. My dear boy is only a shadow...."

"What should we do with you, lost little lamb?" whispered Druscilla.

"What shall we take as recompense?" Darla hissed.

"Death?"

"Yes." The word fell from her lips earlier. To rest. To finally be free. Falling to her knees, Buffy hunched over. Darla and Druscilla knelt behind her, brushing aside her hair.

"You didn't wear your best." complained Druscilla. "You're always supposed to wear your best at a funeral. She shifted into game face.

Then Darla touched Druscilla's shoulder, and they both drew back. Buffy remained where she was, a hunched figure of misery.

They left, fleeing as silently as they'd come. She stared dully at the floor, entranced, caught. Her heartbeat. She stared down at her hands, flexed them, feeling the pulse of blood through her veins. It sounded loud to her ears. Pushing it back, she watched things fuzz.

"Buffy!"

And he was there, all rushing and trenchcoat swirling. She gripped him tightly, and trance broken, she wept into his chest, letting it out. He, the Warrior, ever the guardian, held her as she wept. Her angel.

Her reason.

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