“It’s well after three in the morning,” Giles said suddenly, startling Willow who was concentrating on her laptop screen.

She yelped, laid a hand over her heart and exhaled loudly. “That’s why you shouldn’t just start speaking from the shadows! You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Where could she be?”

“They have a lot to work out. They’re probably just getting to the screaming part.”

“Perhaps.” He walked toward the windows, glancing out at the moonlight that reflected over the ocean. “I never thought I’d say this, but I missed California.”

“Now you really are trying to give me a heart attack. You? Missing sand, sun, and fun? Did we happen to fly near the Bermuda Triangle on the way here?”

He turned to look at her. “Did we do the right thing?”

“Hey, you’re wisdom guy. You know way more than me.”

Giles helped himself to the snifter of brandy that had been enticing him for the duration of their stay. Sitting across from her, he took a sip. “I haven’t been imagining Buffy’s depression. Nor have I failed to notice that the only time she ever smiles anymore is when she is packing to leave.”

“It’s hard for her. I mean, she hasn’t said anything to me about it, but it has to be hard going around trying to convice these girls to come and possibly die. You know Buffy, she’s big with the self blame. Every time we lose one, she has to feel responsible because it was her decision to activate them all.”

“Has she ever spoken to you about what transpired in Sunnydale when we forced her to step down and allow Faith to take over?”

“That’s a really fancy way of saying that we kicked her out of her own house. And no, she hasn’t.”

Giles drank the rest of the brandy in his glass and filled it again. “Maybe we should call Wolfram and Hart.”

There was a soft knock at the front door and Willow stood. “She probably forgot her key.”

Opening the door, Willow smiled brightly. “Oh, hey, Angel! Come in!”

Angel gave her a hug and nodded at Giles, who regarded him with an impassive expression. “Hello, Giles.”

“Angel.” Giles indicated his glass. “Would you like some brandy?”

“No. Thank you,” the vampire replied. “Is Buffy here?”

“You haven’t seen her?” Willow shut the door and looked up at him. “She left hours ago for a ‘walk’.” She made air quotes with her fingers. “But we kinda figured that she’d be heading to Wolfram and Hart to see Spike.”

“She did,” Angel said.

“What happened?” Giles asked.

“I’m not sure. I mean, she came in ready to kill both of us, then she spent a while talking to Spike. I went to check on them and she blew past me. She was obviously upset.”

“What does Spike have to say?” Willow exhanged looks with Giles.

“He wouldn’t talk to me.”

“How long ago did she leave?” Giles queried.

“It’s been a while. I had something to deal with so I couldn’t go after her right away.” His thoughts turned to Nina, who had not taken the news that Buffy was in town very well.

Giles put his glass on the table and reached for his shoes. “We’ll have to find her.”

“I’ll do it,” Angel told him, moving toward the door.

Buffy chose that moment to enter. Her hair was a mess. Half of it had escaped from her pony tail and twisted around her neck. She stumbled, dropping the brown paper bag that held the most recent bottle of whiskey. “Shit,” she muttered. Leaning down to pick it up, she lost her balance entirely and fell forward.

Angel caught her, wrinkling his nose at the smell of alcohol that poured from her. He also caught the scent of blood and lifted her face, frowning when he saw that her lip had a cut on it and a heavy bruise mottled her temple and cheek. Her clothing was in disarray as well, her shirt hanging limply from her scraped shoulder. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

“What?” Buffy attempted to focus, but her glassy eyes were practically crossed.

“Spike did this?” Giles asked her, disbelief clouding his face.

“No.” Buffy shook her head. “I found some demons on the beach. Or, they found me. Kicked my ass. Where did my whiskey go?”

“Are you okay?” Angel tried to lead her toward the couch, but she pulled away.

“Yes! Ow! No!” She reached for her shirt, pulling what remained of it upwards to expose her side. “Look at my shirt! They ruined my shirt!”

Willow hissed when she saw the deep scratches that ran along her friend’s ribcage. “I’ll go find a first aid kit.”

“I know where it is.” Giles followed her. “I keep one in my bag. Get some water and a cloth, Willow.”

Buffy watched them go with narrowed eyes and hiccuped loudly, before turning back towards Angel. “You’re all wrong for doing this to me. If I didn’t have to be here I wouldn’t spend two seconds with any of you,” she slurred.

“Has anyone told you that you’re not a very pretty drunk?” Angel shot back, leading her to the couch and forcing her to sit. He removed his jacket and tossed it into the chair before kneeling in front of her. “Do you think anything is broken?”

“Just me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry. He’s sorry. They’re all sorry. It doesn’t change anything. He doesn’t want me.”

“And you want him?” Angel lifted the edge of her shirt again, pressing the palm of his hand against the wounds to stop the blood that flowed freely, but also to check her ribcage.

“You know that I do,” she said. “We’ve had this conversation a hundred times since Sunnydale.” Realization dawned on her then. “You kept asking me about my feelings for him over and over again. All this time! You kept bringing him up! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I wanted to hear that you were over him. I could have told you he was back when you had moved on. I couldn't until then.”

“I never planned to move on!”

“You will.”

“I love him,” she snapped. “I will always love him.”

Angel cringed when he heard the words. “Then god help you, Buffy, because he’s never going to change.”

“I don’t want him to!”

“You like having your heart ripped out?”

“I stayed with you, didn’t I? I must be a glutton for punishment.”

He shook his head. “You should be lashing out at him.”

“You could have said something! We talked almost every day!”

“It wasn’t my story to tell. It was his. If you want to be pissed then aim it the right way.” His grip tightened on her side without him realizing it.

She sucked in her breath. “Owww!”

“I don’t think anything is broken,” he replied absently.

”Check again. I think you snapped me in two!”

Giles arrived with the first aid supplies followed by Willow, who had a bowl and wash rag in hand. Angel reached for the bowl, trying to ignore the way her blood covered his hands and that the scent was tantalizing and sweet. He wet the cloth and turned back to Buffy. “Hold your shirt up.”

She stared at them all, distaste evident on her features. She wrapped her arms around herself and shook her head. “I don’t need you. Any of you. I can do it myself.”

“Hold your shirt up,” Angel repeated, more firmly this time.

Buffy lifted an eyebrow, then slapped the bowl of water in Willow’s hands so that it showered down on him. She pushed him out of her way and got to her feet. “You’re all so good at keeping secrets. Let me tell you one! The only time I feel alive anymore is when something slices into me. I don’t even put up a fight half the time. I just keep my arms down and let them get their licks in. Not because I want to feel something. I do it because maybe one night my Slayer instinct will take a nap and I won’t fight back at all and it can end.

“And all of you will talk about how I went down fighting, like a Slayer is supposed to, and you’ll never know that I did it on purpose. You’ll never know that I had enough. That I had enough after mom died. That I had enough after Glory took Dawn. That I had enough when I saw Dawn’s blood open that portal and I jumped to save you all. I’d had enough then. Now? Now I’ve had too much. It’s killing me.” Her voice broke. “I hate it!”

Giles stared at her with wide eyes. Willow put a hand over her mouth to stop the trembling. Angel slowly got to his feet and reached for her. “You’re drunk. You’re not making any sense.”

“Yeah. Right.” Buffy backed away, the fight seemingly gone from her. “I’ll see things differently tomorrow when the hangover hits and the sun comes up. I tell myself that every time. And every time I lie.”

“Spike is not worth-”

“Angel, you are hardly the man to judge anyone’s worth,” Giles interrupted.

“You can’t possibly condone -”

“Stop it!” Dawn suddenly yelled from the hallway. There were tears rolling down her cheeks and she slowly entered the room, her gaze finding her sister. Wordlessly, she joined Buffy and took her hand. “You’re all making it worse. You can’t talk to her when she’s like this. Believe me, I know. When we’re in Italy together this is my life.”

“Dawnie-” Buffy said.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m going to clean you up and then you can go to sleep.”

“My side.”

“I’ll fix it. Come on.”

Everyone watched as Dawn led Buffy from the room. Angel picked up the bowl that was now in the floor and slopped the rag into it. “This is more than Spike. What the hell’s going on with her?”

“We’d all like to know.” Giles handed Willow the first aid kit. “Give that to Dawn, please?”

Willow nodded, speechless, and hurried down the hallway.

Angel put the bowl on the coffee table. “That offer of brandy still stand?”

With a nod, Giles refilled his own glass and brought a matching one for Angel, who was sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands. Giles put the glass in front of him and sat down. “You’re wet.”

“I’ll dry.” Angel drained the glass and sat it back down. “Has she been like this long?”

“I don’t see her very often. She lives full time in Italy until Willow can lead her to a new Slayer and then she travels, sometimes for weeks until she locates the girl. We’re able to persuade her to spend a night or two with us sometimes, but usually she refuses and returns home.”

“You didn’t answer me.”

“I’ve known for a while that things aren’t right with her. I dismissed it, tried to convince myself that she was struggling to adjust to this new life. I was mistaken.”

“And this thing with Spike?”

“He was there for her when no one else could be. I don’t agree with it, but I certainly understand it.”

“And she has your blessing?”

“Angel, she has my heart. I want to see her happy. If that means welcoming Spike into her life then so be it.”

“He loves her. In his own sick, twisted way.”

Giles nodded. “And clearly he’s capable of devotion. He was with Drusilla for years, after all.”

“He did die for Buffy.”

“Yes. And he obtained his soul in order to give her what he thought she wanted. I’ve read the texts. His torment was enormous as he proved his worth.”

“Are we convincing ourselves yet?” Angel asked.

“Not entirely, no.”

“I’ll talk to Spike.”

”What will you say?”

“Whatever it takes.”