When Willow reentered the living room, Xander and Anya were gone. Dawn had taken a seat next to Spike, who was staring out into space, lost in thought. Dawn was finding comfort by leaning her head against Spike’s shoulder.

“Where are Xander and Anya?” asked the redhead.

Without so much as a blink, Spike answered, “Doughnuts.”

Dawn pulled away from Spike’s shoulder, giving Willow a little more information than Spike volunteered, “Xander said something about every morning Scooby session needing ‘sugary goodness’... But really, I think he was afraid Anya would open her mouth again.”

“That was probably a good idea,” confessed Willow. She turned her attention to Spike, now just as worried about him as she was about Buffy. She looked at Dawn who shared her concern. “Spike?”

“What.”

“Um, well, nothing. You just seem... uh, kinda out of it. Are you feeling ok?”

For a moment, Spike didn’t react to Willow’s question. Finally, Spike stood up, walking to within inches of Willow’s face, “My wife doesn’t trust me. How the bloody hell do you think I feel?!” Then he pushed past her, heading into the kitchen.

Willow stood there, not knowing if she should go after him or leave him to feel sorry for himself. Dawn saw Willow’s hesitation and made the decision for her. She jumped off the couch and followed her brother-in-law to the kitchen.

Spike was up to his elbows in a sink full of dishwater, scrubbing violently at an unsuspecting baking dish.

“You didn’t have to be such an ass,” chastised Dawn.

“Don’t think big sis would appreciate the language, Nibblet,” muttered Spike.

Dawn ignored his remark, “Willow’s just worried about you.”

“I’m alright.”

“Obviously,” Dawn scoffed.

Spike abandoned the baking dish, turning to confront the youngest Summers. “Your sister is sittin’ up in that room goin’ through God knows what and I can’t do anything about it!”

“Have you tried talking to her?”

Calming slightly, Spike answered, “Yeah. She asked for Willow.”

“So you’re giving up? When did you stop fighting for what you wanted?” Dawn waited for a response from Spike, but he just lowered his head and turned back to the dishes.

Annoyed, Dawn grabbed a mug from the cabinet, filled it with water, and placed it in the microwave. When the timer beeped, she plopped a tea bag in the mug and turned back to Spike. “I’m going up there to talk to my sister. You can join us when you decide to grow a pair.”

Spike was taken aback by Dawn’s latest comment, especially since he knew she was right. Still, his pride was hurt, so he continued scrubbing away.

-----

Buffy was sitting in bed, her back against the wall. She was lost in thought, wondering how a delusion could be so real. She didn’t notice Dawn standing in the doorway.

“I made you some tea.” She crossed the room to her sister’s side.

Still staring at some seemingly interesting spot on the wall, Buffy whispered, “Thanks.” Noticing that this wasn’t just a delivery mission, Buffy added, “I’m ok, Dawn.”

“The, uh, thousand yard stare really helped sell that.”

Buffy forced herself back to reality (or was it un-reality?) and put on the most reassuring smile she could muster, “Really, Dawnie. I just need some time to think.”

“I understand,” Dawn stood up, “But you should talk to Spike. He’s pretty freaked.”

“He is?”

“Yeah. He’s acting like he’s losing you or something. Whatever it is that you need to think about, you should share it with Spike,” explained Dawn.

Buffy shook her head, “He won’t like it.”

“Like you’ve never said something to him that he didn’t want to hear,” reasoned Dawn.

Buffy’s smile turned genuine, “When did you get so smart?”

Dawn shrugged, “I dunno. Although I have been eating a lot of fish lately. Brain food you know. So are you going after him or not?”

Buffy threw he legs over the side of the bed, ready to face the bleached bad boy who loved her. “Where is he?” she asked.

“Washing dishes if you can believe it,” Dawn replied, linking arms with her sister as they headed downstairs.

-----

Dawn had abandoned her sister, using some excuse about watering the lawn. She had grabbed Willow by the arm, practically dragging her away from her research and out the door, leaving Buffy and Spike alone in the house. Buffy was pacing in the foyer, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to rehearse what she was going to tell him. ‘Ok, so Spike. Here’s the thing. I’m fairly certain that this whole marriage thing is a hallucination.’ That’s no good. ‘Spike, I don’t love you, I hate your guts.’ Damn, even worse. There’s gotta be a greeting card somewhere that can say this for me!

Buffy had given up on the rehearsal, deciding she might as well wing it. She peeked her head into the kitchen, secretly hoping Spike was not in there so she could put off the talk a little longer. No such luck. Spike was still standing over the sink, but this time with a towel in hand, drying a dinner plate.

Buffy took a quick look around the kitchen, checking to see if anything was different from what it was supposed to look like. Everything seemed to be in its rightful place, right down to the curtains that her mom had been so fond of. She remembered the day her mom had hung them up, “There,” she had said, “Aren’t they perfect in here? And they look so pretty when the sunlight streams though them, don’t they?” Buffy smiled at the memory... until she noticed something else.

“No WAY!” Buffy’s exclamation startled Spike, causing him to drop the plate he was holding.

“Buffy?” asked Spike, too troubled to acknowledge the shards of glass spread across the kitchen floor.

“You’re... I mean, you can’t be...” Buffy was slack-jawed, looking at Spike as if she had never seen him before.

“What? What is it?” Spike said, rushing over to his wife.

“You should be on fire!”

Spike had been standing in front of the window, directly in the path of the sun’s entering rays. Spike’s brow furrowed, “What are you talkin’ about, pet?”

“My God... you are... you’re human.” With that, Buffy’s vision went blurry and she collapsed on the floor.