Today will be another multi-chapter update, so make sure you've read all the preceding chapters before moving on to the next. I should be caught up, after today, with where this story is on other sites.

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all recognizable characters, locations, and dialogue belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the various writers. Show writers and any other quoted authors have been credited in individual chapters. I'm making no money from this—it is purely in the name of fun.

Credits: This chapter contains dialogue from the episode "Into The Woods" written by Marti Noxon.

This chapter is, sadly, unbetaed. All mistakes are mine.

Banner by Phuriedae

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Chapter 11
Passing Time

Riley drives mom and I back to the hospital and we get her checked back in. We've both decided it's for the best. At least here she's pretty much under constant surveillance, and I can concentrate on guarding against demons.

"Can you pick up that dead demon and take it over to Giles?" I ask Riley, once we've gotten mom settled in her room. "Maybe he can figure out what it is and why it was after my mom."

"Sure," Riley says. His voice is tight. "Buffy...what... what was Spike doing there?"

"Ugh," I roll my eyes. "Stealing stuff out of my basement, or so he claims. Whatever. As long as it's basement stuff, I don't really care. I've got other things to worry about."

"So... it doesn't bother you, him being in your house?" Riley asks, frowning.

"Riley, he's chipped. What's he gonna do? Watch pay-per-view porn and make long distance phone calls? Drink straight out of the orange juice carton? I'll deal with him later. Besides... kinda glad he was there."

If he hadn't been, I probably would have been able to take that demon thing. Maybe. It was barely three feet tall. Still, I'm pretty sure I totally checked out of that fight when it landed on me and I started having visions. If Spike hadn't been there... Riley probably would have walked in on a much different scene.

Riley looks like he wants to say something, then thinks better of it. He nods tightly, gives me a hug, then walks away.
***
I sleep in the chair beside my mom's bed that night.

When I finally fall asleep, Mr. Gordo and I spar.

Silently, he shows me different ways of fighting and blocking. We move slow and I'm starting to learn how to feel the electric tingle along my skin just before he grabs me, or the pressure of the air as his fist moves toward my face. He still beats me most of the time, but I'm getting better.

When I wake up, I'm glad none of the bruises I earn each night come with me. I'm not sure how I'd explain how I managed to get a black eye and bruised ribs while sleeping.

Maybe it's a good thing it's only a dream.
***
"Amara? There's a demon of Amara? Like the gem thingie that Spike had?"

"No," Giles says, and I can hear him polishing his glasses through the phone. "No, it's Scandinavian. Mara, it's a kind of nightmare demon. It's where the word nightmare comes from, actually. They're quite rare in this part of the world. Normally they're only to be found in northern Europe. They prefer colder climates."

"Well," I say, pulling my jacket a little tighter, "it's been pretty cold here lately. Weirdly cold." When mom and I watch the TV the weather guy keeps talking about the strange cold snap Sunnydale seems to be having. I'm getting to experience it first hand, since I'm standing outside the hospital and talking on the pay phone. It feels like the first time I've seen daylight in weeks, though, so I'm willing to tolerate the cold.

"Yes, quite, but Mara demons generally prefer sub-zero temperatures," he says.

"Maybe it wanted a tropical vacation?"

"Very funny," Giles drawls. "Maras attack by incapacitating their victims and psychically connecting with them, projecting nightmarish images drawn from fears in their victim's subconscious."

I shiver. Yeah... that'd pretty much explain some of the stuff I saw.

"Any idea why it went after my mom?" I ask. This is what has me the most worried.

"Not exactly. Perhaps her... condition makes it easier for the demon to influence her?" I hear him flipping through books in the background.

"Do you think there's more of them, or was it just the one?" I ask.

"I'm not sure. We'll keep our eyes and ears open. If anything turns up...," his voice trails off.

"Call," I say. I get quiet. "Mom's surgery is scheduled for tomorrow."

"We'll be there," he promises, and suddenly I feel a whole lot better.

***

Mom and I spend the day trying not to think about the surgery. Her lapses are a little less freaky now that they've changed her medication, but sometimes when we're watching TV she'll start yelling or saying weird things. Mostly we try to pretend they don't happen.

Xander and Willow come by in the afternoon and we take turns entertaining mom. Xander is the clear winner when he pulls out the heavy guns and does his Snoopy dance in the middle of the room. The nurses are very impressed and make him do it three more times so that all of them can watch.

He does, because it makes mom laugh. I knew there was a reason we were friends.

Once she's asleep we have a mini-meeting in the corner of her room, keeping our voices low so we don't wake her up.

"So, a nightmare demon, huh?" Xander says. "Was it eensy-weensy by any chance?"

"I wish. It was short, though. Looked like a hairy little gnome thing," I say, shuddering.

"Was it like ... like those dreams we had when we went after Adam?" Willow asks, nervous.

"A world of thank-god no. No... it was more like... flashes of things I'm afraid of. Not even possible things just... sort of scary," I say, digging into my bag of Cheetos. "Aside from the smell and the ick-factor, it wasn't too bad. I just hope there aren't more."

"There aren't any," Willow says. "Giles had Tara and I do a location spell on it before he buried it. It was a lone Mara."

"Well, that's good," I say. "I really wasn't looking forward to having to deal with hunting more of them down on top of everything else.

"Yeah, not exactly the sort of thing we can go door to door on. 'Excuse me, have you woken up recently to find a hairy hobbit sitting on your chest, feeding you nightmares? If so, would you mind if we watched you sleep so we can kill it? We'll just sit in the corner with our knives and other stabby weapons.' That would go over well," Xander jokes.

"It'll be fine," Willow says. I know she thinks it's true, but I can't cling to that. "Just think, by tomorrow evening, this will all be over and your mom will be okay."

"Right," I say, wishing I felt so optimistic. "Think positive."

I kinda don't want tomorrow to come. Hopefully sparring with Mr. Gordo tonight will exhaust me enough that I'll sleep.
***
Tomorrow comes too quickly.

Mom goes into surgery super early in the morning. Xander and Willow show up an hour later, groggy but there. Riley comes in a little after, then Giles, who brings coffee.

We wait.
***
The clock on the wall says it's just after ten.

She's been in surgery now for three hours.

I've had five cups of coffee and my leg has started to vibrate.
***
An hour later, I've gone from twitchy to jumpy.

I'm obsessively aware of anyone in doctor's scrubs. The minute I see them, my whole body tenses.

None of them are mom's doctor.
***
Noon.

Xander's stomach is growling loud enough to be audible over his fingernail biting. I finally take pity on him and send him to the cafeteria.

"Did you know they have lime jello?" he asks when he comes back forty minutes later. His tongue is green.
***
By one Giles has progressed to full on pace-mode.

Willow is obsessively checking the time.

Riley keeps dozing off. He looks even more tired than I feel.

"What's taking so long?" I ask.

"It doesn't mean anything," Riley assures me.

"You think?"

"I'd worry more if your mom were out of surgery quickly. Might mean that, you know, they couldn't do much," he says. Oddly, that's not so reassuring.

When the doctor comes down the hallway, I've been imagining him so often that at first I'm sure it's a hallucination. Then I see how tired he looks and realize that it's real.

Oh, god.

We all stand and wait. I've never been so nervous in my entire life.

"Your mom's in recovery," the doctor tells me.

"What happened? Is she alright?" I ask.

"It was possible to visualize the tumor completely, which means I was able to get all of it," he says and I feel my knees starting to get kind of wobbly. "So, barring complications in recovery, I think your mother's going to be fine. Of course we're still going to have to watch your mother carefully, and, uh, have her back in here for some follow-up testing, but, overall I'd consider the procedure a complete success."

Nothing so nerdy has ever sounded so good.

It's like all this weight that's been on me for weeks has suddenly been lifted. I'm balloon Buffy, suddenly floating up to the ceiling with joy. I hug everyone, I'm so happy.

I... might have hugged the doctor just a little too hard, though. But I can guarantee his back is gonna feel great for awhile, no chiropractor needed. It's the least I could do, right?
***
We hang around at the hospital for awhile, but mom's sleeping and they say she'll probably sleep through ‘til morning. Riley finally convinces me that we should go home.

"Come on," he says, rubbing my shoulders. "We'll have some alone time. There can be massages."

Ooooh.

When we get home he sends me up to the shower with explicit instructions not to rush. I don't. The hot water feels amazing, and afterward I take my time getting dressed and drying my hair. It's so nice not to have anything major to worry about. I'm sort of surprised he didn't join me, though.

When I come downstairs, I see why he didn't. Mmmm... Mr. Romantic straightened up and lit candles. There's music and wine. We even dance a little. It's so relaxing, just being there in his arms. So good just to take a break from everything.

He seems a little disappointed when I say so.

"I want tonight to be special for you," he tells me, rocking me slowly to the music.

"It's more than special. It's perfect," I tell him. It is. It's so nice to just have a normal, romantic night with my sweet, romantic boyfriend. No demons. No vampires. No worrying about mom. I can just pretend for a little while.

"Well, I'm glad," he says. "You deserve it after everything you've been through."

"Well, it's nothing compared to what my mom had to deal with," I say. Which is true. I was just Support-O-Girl.

"Don't sell yourself short," he says, seriously. "You stayed strong throughout, Buffy. You never even cried."

"Oh, I cried," I tell him, thinking of those two nights when I sobbed on Mr. Gordo, then the other night over the sink... hell, even the night Spike sat with me on the porch, even though that time wasn't a full out sob-fest. I guess I didn't realize how bad things were going to be. "I cried so hard, I didn't think I was gonna be able to stop."

"Oh," he says, sounding surprised. I put my head on his shoulder. He feels tense. Way tenser than me. I want him to relax, too.

"That's all in the past, now," I say. "Mom's out of the woods, and I'm here with you. That's all that matters."

Later, we make love, and it's perfect. Slow and sweet. So what if there aren't fireworks? I'm so relaxed by the end of it that I drift off to sleep almost immediately.
***
And wake up naked in the dream room.

Crap. I'd completely forgotten to snag something to wear. Besides, Riley probably would have thought it was weird if I'd gotten dressed right after. Only now what am I going to do?

It's taking Mr. Gordo awhile to arrive. Maybe if I'm asleep by the time he gets here, I won't have to explain why I don't want to spar tonight? I pull the sheet up around my body as tight as possible, then pull the blankets up to my chin and snuggle into my pillow, trying to get back to the state of relaxation I was in just a few minutes ago.

My senses are on hyper alertness, though, as I wait for him to show up.

I try to distract myself with other thoughts. The sheets always smell clean. I wonder if I have dream housekeepers who change them every night? There's a faint trace of coconut to my pillow, like my shampoo. I wonder what Mr. Gordo's pillow smells like? Probably like vampire... which, okay, doesn't really have a smell, exactly. Vampires are like people. They all smell different. Some smell okay, and some smell really skanky. There do tend to be some common themes, though.

I always associate them with the smell of old leather, alcohol and cigarettes. Probably too much time spent around Spike. Angel smelled a little like leather, too—probably all those leather coats. And coffee. And hair gel. He also liked that heavy cologne... Drakkar Noir, I think? Some old cologney stuff. You'd think that's what would stick... but no. For me vampires smell like old beat up leather, whiskey, Morley cigarettes, and a little like graveyards at night: grass, trees, dirt, sun-baked gravestones, and old flowers. It's weirdly not a bad smell.

The strangeness that is being the Slayer: graveyards smell homey.

There's a depressing thought.

I've spent almost a third of my life patrolling graveyards. Sometimes I wonder what a younger version of me would have thought, if someone had told her what I was going to turn out to be. When I was fourteen I figured my life was going to be pretty easy: malls and pretty clothes, makeup, cheerleading and boys. Someday, I figured I'd grow up and marry Christian Slater. Shallow, I guess. That Buffy would have turned up her nose at all night graveyard patrols and demons and vampires. Saving the world was for people who were smarter, stronger, and way more serious than I was.

I guess we never really know what we're going to turn out to be, or what weirdness life is going to throw us.

I'm actually drifting to sleep when I feel Mr. Gordo come in. He seems to sense that I'm tired, because he's a little extra quiet as he gets into bed. He doesn't lay down, though. Instead I feel him sitting up against the headrail until I finally fall asleep.

He smells like old leather, cigarettes and graveyards, too.