Disclaimer: All the vampires belong to Joss Whedon. Ok, and the Scoobies too.
 
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Chapter 1: Of Sloth and Anger
 
When Buffy and Dawn got home, Dawn went up to bed almost immediately. “Aren’t you going to watch your movie?” Buffy inquired. You only whined about it a million times.
 
“Nah, I think I’ll skip it tonight. I can’t remember what channel it’s on, and I don’t feel like hunting for it. Good night,” she yawned as she headed upstairs.
 
Buffy frowned at her sister’s back. Don’t think I’ve ever seen someone too lazy to turn on the television. She moved into the kitchen and regarded the pile of dishes in the sink. Typical. Am I the only person under forty who knows how to do any fucking chores around here? She got the dishwashing soap from under the sink and slammed it down on the counter. She rolled up her sleeves and got to work, grumbling and cursing under her breath the whole time, “Motherfucking dishes. Every other house on the fucking block has a dishwasher, but not us. Fucking pisses me off.” She accidentally tossed a plate into the drying rack with such force that it broke. “Great! Fucking wonderful,” she growled out loud as she picked up the pieces.
 
She paused as she bent down to get a piece that had hit the floor. Man, I am in a mood tonight. PMS, maybe? She mentally calculated when her last period was. It probably wasn’t PMS, but who knows. Sometimes her cycle got all wonky if she exercised too much or was stressed out, and lord knows that Glory was enough to throw anyone off their game. She took a deep breath and tried to force herself to be calm, if only to spare the dishes.
 
She finished the dishes and went to sit on the couch. She found herself really wishing her mom was there. She was glad that her mom was well enough to travel out of town for a night. Joyce was off acquiring things for her gallery, and Buffy knew that she welcomed the trip as a sign that things were getting back to normal. Still, Buffy resented having to watch Dawn sometimes. She can be so whiny. It’s freaking annoying. She found she was getting unreasonably angry again and she fought it back. I probably shouldn’t operate any pointy machinery tonight. It occurred to her out of nowhere that she almost wished some of those annoying Initiative guys were around – they would be perfect for working out aggressions on. Yeah, like Forrest. Ooh it would be so much fun to pound him a few more times. I’d haul him back from the grave just to have the pleasure of beating on that creep again.
 
Buffy shook herself for a moment. She really was getting all super-Slayer over nothing. She got up and went upstairs to get ready for bed. She ground her teeth when she saw that Dawn had left toothpaste all over the bathroom sink again. Then once again she forced herself to take a deep breath. Relax! What am I getting so tense about tonight? Gotta cut down on the caffeine or something. She finished cleaning up, and got into bed. Her muscles were bunched and tense for a long time, but at last, she fell asleep.

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Buffy woke up around nine the next morning to the sound of the phone ringing. “Who the fuck calls at this hour on a Saturday?” she grumbled aloud. She grabbed the phone and barked, “What??” into the receiver.
 
“Buffy? Is that you?” It was Joyce.
 
“Oh, hi Mom,” Buffy said sheepishly.
 
“Did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?” Joyce asked. Joyce was a bit surprised – usually Dawn was the extra-cranky child in the morning.
 
“Sorry about that, I guess I was still pretty deeply asleep and I was startled,” Buffy said.
 
“Well, I just wanted to check up on you,” said Joyce. “I’ll be home around five or six o’clock. Can you do something for dinner?”
 
Fine. Don’t ask Dawn to get off her ass or anything. To her mom she said, “Sure. Is pasta ok?”
 
“That’s fine, honey. See you later. Tell Dawn to remember that her History project is due Monday.”
 
“Ok, Mom. Love you,” Buffy replied.
 
“Love you too,” said Joyce as she hung up. Joyce was mildly concerned – Buffy sounded a bit on edge this morning. I’ll see what’s going on when I get home.
 
Buffy hung up the phone and looked in on Dawn, who was still fast asleep. Not really wanting the company anyhow, Buffy went downstairs and made some breakfast. They were out of orange juice, and Buffy grumbled about having to make do with cranberry. Then she grumbled again about the lack of dishwasher. I need to work out or something. Too much tension today. She went out to the backyard and practiced flips, kicks, punches, and other martial arts moves in the air for about an hour, which helped calm her down somewhat. At around eleven o’clock she went inside, expecting to find Dawn munching cereal, but she wasn’t downstairs.
 
Buffy bounded upstairs to find Dawn still in bed. ”Dawn! Are you ever getting up today?” she asked, hands on her hips.
 
“Go away,” mumbled Dawn, who rolled over and put her head under her pillow.
 
“Mom said to remind you about your History project. Have you started it yet?”
 
Dawn groaned. She had gotten books about World War I out of the library last weekend, but hadn’t really done much more than take a few preliminary notes. She had until Monday to write a five page paper from the point of view of a soldier in the trenches. The thought did not spur her to leap out of bed. “I’ll start it later. It’s not due until Monday.”
 
“Um, it’s like, almost noon on Saturday? Do the math?” Buffy said.
 
“Ok, ok,” said Dawn from under the pillow. “I’ll be up in a minute.”
 
Buffy threw her hands up in irritation and went to take a shower. She relaxed under the hot shower and tried to remember what else she should be doing today. Need to call Giles. Need to see if Willow found out anything else. She reached for the bottle of her favorite vanilla scented shampoo, only to find that it was nearly empty. “Dammit!” she yelled. She threw the bottle at the wall as hard as she could. I fucking hate it when Dawn uses the last godamn drop of MY shampoo without even bothering to fucking TELL ME that she used it. Bitch. She grabbed the shampoo that her mom used, washed her hair, rinsed off, and stepped out. She was so angry that when she grabbed the towel, she did it with such force that the towel bar ripped clean out of the wall along with it. “The hell?” she yelled. Snarling, she threw the bar on the ground and dried off. Better get Xander to fix that sometime or Mom’s gonna have kittens.
 
When she was dressed, she went back across the hall to find Dawn still in bed. Buffy lost it. “Dawn Summers get your lazy ass out of bed right now!” she screamed. Dawn sat up, looking slightly scared. Buffy never swore at her like that. Never. Deciding that it was probably not prudent to piss off her supernaturally-powered sister, she reluctantly threw back the covers. “Alright already,” said Dawn grumpily. “I’m getting up. Don’t need to have a coronary.”
 
Buffy stomped out of the room, while Dawn shuffled off to the bathroom. She thought about changing out of her pajamas, but then decided that since she didn’t plan on going anywhere much, she might as well stay as is. Yawning, she made her way downstairs to the kitchen. She grabbed two pop-tarts, thought about toasting them, then dismissed that as too much work and ate them cold. Buffy came up from the basement with a basket of laundry and looked at Dawn’s breakfast disdainfully. “Health food kick?” she asked derisively.
 
“Whatever,” Dawn grumbled. Buffy rolled her eyes and continued upstairs. She put the basket down and dialed Xander’s mobile phone.
 
“Greetings, Buffster,” Xander said when he heard her hello. “What can I do for you?”
 
Gah, his voice can be annoying sometimes. “Can you stop by on the way home from work? I accidentally pulled the towel rack off the wall and was wondering if you could fix it for us.”
 
“Don’t know your own strength?” Xander teased.
 
“Can you fix it or not?” Buffy barked. Didn’t ask for the comedy hour here.
 
“Um, sure Buffy, don’t get all bent out of shape,” Xander said, a little taken aback.
 
“Sorry, Xander, I’m just really on edge today.”
 
“No worries. I’ll stop by later.” With that, they said their goodbyes and hung up.
 
Dawn finished her breakfast and dragged her backpack over to the couch. She pulled out a notebook and a pen, and opened one of the library books. After about 3 minutes, she was bored. I didn’t realize how much work this was going to be. I thought we could just make stuff up. She sighed and turned on the TV. She leaned back and flipped channels for a while. She dismissed a documentary as too boring and a mystery as too much work to follow before settling on some nice, brainless cartoons. I’ll get started later. I’ll have plenty of time to get it done.
 
Buffy finished putting her laundry away and was in the process of returning the basket to the basement. She paused as she passed the living room. “Dawn? History project?” she barked.
 
“You’re not actually my mom, you know,” Dawn retorted, without actually moving or anything. Buffy huffed and stomped down to the basement, slamming the basket down on the washing machine with a bang. She stomped back upstairs and slammed the basement door, making Dawn jump. “Jeez, who peed in your Wheaties this morning?” Dawn remarked.
 
“Don’t be gross!” snapped Buffy. Then she paused and took a deep breath. “Sorry. I… I’m going to go out, for a while. I don’t know why I’m such a bitch today, but I need to go take a walk or something. Please get something done on your project, ok?”
 
“Ok,” replied Dawn in a less than enthusiastic voice. Buffy grabbed a jacket and left to head to the Magic Box training room.
 
Dawn clicked off the TV with a sigh. History was one of her favorite subjects, usually. Why am I having such a hard time getting started on this? She picked up the book again and tried her hardest to concentrate. She lasted a little longer this time – a whole ten minutes – before she once again put down the book and picked up the remote. She channel surfed until she found a station that was having a Bugs Bunny marathon. She put her feet up on the coffee table and giggled. I can just watch a couple and still get some work done before Buffy gets home.
 
Buffy had reached the Magic Box in record time, stalking through the streets of Sunnydale with her mouth set in a hard line. When she got there, Giles came out of his office and smiled in greeting. “Hello, Buffy. Something the matter?” he asked.
 
“No, I just feel all tense. Need to work out before I explode,” she responded, shedding her jacket and waving a cursory hello to Anya on the way to the training room. She put her gloves on and stretched as Giles made his way in.
 
“Anything you want to work on?” he asked, wondering if anything in particular was bothering his Slayer.
 
“Not really,” said Buffy, wishing Giles would just shut up and let her work out. She began hitting the heavy bag, starting with simple jabs and crosses. Giles watched approvingly as she moved with lightning speed, the bag rocking with the force of her blows. After a while, Giles started to get a bit concerned when her blows came harder and faster, showing no signs of letting up or stopping. A few stitches started popping on the seams of the punching bag as Buffy pounded it still harder.
 
“Buffy,” began Giles, carefully. “Are you sure nothing has upset you or anything?”
 
“For the last time, Giles,” growled Buffy. “I’m fine!” With that, Buffy reared back and kicked the punching bag so hard that the chain pulled clear out of the ceiling. The bag sailed across the room to crash into the couch, stuffing oozing from the seams. She paused, gasping for breath. “Oops,” she said, feeling a little embarrassed about overdoing it. She did admit that she felt much less aggravated after having worked out. Anya popped her head in, observed the destruction with wide eyes, then retreated back to the counter.
 
“Yes, well, I think you’d best take a break for now,” said Giles somewhat nervously, polishing his glasses and surveying the wreckage. “At least until we tidy up a bit?”
 
“Sorry about that, Giles,” Buffy apologized. “I can help clean up.”
 
“No, that’s all right,” said Giles. “I think we were due for a new punching bag anyhow. We’ll… deal with this later, shall we?” After we figure out what in the name of heaven has gotten into you.
 
“Ok. I guess I should get back to Dawn anyhow. She is being a total slug today.”
 
“Will you be patrolling as usual tonight?” asked Giles.
 
“Yeah. I could use a good slay. See you later,” Buffy answered as she left for home. Giles wiped his brow and gazed once more at the murdered punching bag. I’ll have to ask Joyce if she knows what’s bothering Buffy, he thought as he fetched the broom and began sweeping up fallen plaster from the ceiling.
 
When Dawn heard Buffy’s key in the lock, she quickly turned off the TV. She realized guiltily that her ‘few cartoons’ had turned into an hour of vegetation. It was going on three o’clock, and she had spent less than fifteen minutes on her homework. She pulled the books and notebooks onto her lap to make it look like she had been working the whole time. “How’s it coming?” Buffy asked, sticking her head into the living room.
 
OK,” Dawn lied. “I’ve made some notes and started an outline.” If opening the notebook to a blank page constitutes starting an outline, that is.
 
“Mom said she’ll be home around 5, so I’ll be making dinner for then,” Buffy said. She was about to go upstairs when Dawn spoke up saying, “Hey, can you please get me a soda?” Dawn was really thirsty, but didn’t feel like getting up for any reason.
 
Buffy felt her irritation rising once again, but bit her lip to prevent herself from lashing out. With clenched fists she walked to the fridge, grabbed a can of the first soda she saw, and returned to the living room. “Would Madam like anything else?” she said through clenched teeth.
 
“No, thanks,” said Dawn, stifling a yawn. Buffy counted to ten about 15 times as she made her way upstairs and changed out of her workout clothes. That girl hasn’t budged off that couch since I left. If she’s done anything at all on that project I’ll eat one of my stakes. Just as she finished changing, the doorbell rang.
 
“Buffy? Could you get that?” Dawn pleaded. “I’m still in my pajamas.”
 
“Yeah, I got it,” replied Buffy, mentally adding you lazy sack. Buffy found Xander at the door with his toolbox. “You had something that needed fixing?”
 
“Hey, Xander, thanks for coming. Upstairs – towel bar in the big bathroom.” She led Xander upstairs and showed him the damage.
 
“Did the towel bar do anything in particular to offend you?” Xander asked as he got out the right tools and some tile cement. I’d give anything to be half as strong as Buffy. It’s not fair for someone her size to be so strong, he thought.
 
Buffy wasn’t really in the mood for Xander’s stupid jokes today, but she bit back her initial snarky response and said, “Just yanked to too hard I guess.”
 
“Well, I think it can be saved,” he said as he went to work. Within about fifteen minutes the towel bar was back in place. “Just make sure you don’t hang anything on it until tomorrow morning, so the adhesive has time to set, ok?”
 
“Thanks, Xander. I appreciate it.”
 
“You’re welcome,” Xander replied. How come you never see me as anything more than a repair guy, Buffy? I could be just as useful as Willow if you let me. Xander packed up his tools, wondering for the millionth time why he seemed destined to be overlooked by everyone.
 
Buffy showed Xander out and thanked him again for the repair job. She looked at her sister, who was listlessly flipping pages in her history book.”You are not seriously going to come to dinner in your pajamas are you?” she asked. “Are you sick or something?”
 
“No, I just didn’t really see the point of changing if I wasn’t going anywhere,” Dawn responded. Buffy stood there with her hands on her hips staring pointedly. “Ok,” sighed Dawn at last. “I’ll go get dressed if it will get you off my back.”
 
“Try it. Just might work,” snapped Buffy before she turned to go start dinner.
 
Dawn left her books and papers scattered on the couch and headed upstairs. She decided that a long bubble bath would be just the thing – she had a crick in her neck from being on the couch all day. Before long the tub was brimming with fragrant bubbles and she slid into the tub, sighing in contentment. Ahhh. Wonder how long these bubbles will last? I could stay in here all day. She closed her eyes and luxuriated in the scented steam.
 
Buffy started the water for the pasta and made a salad. Her mom sometimes added little touches to the store bought pasta sauce to liven it up a bit, but Buffy’s cooking prowess didn’t extend that far. She heard the water turn off, and assumed Dawn would come down soon after. When 15 minutes passed and Dawn was still in the bathroom, Buffy realized that her sister must be in the bath. Didn’t we have enough lying around today? She rolled her eyes and continued getting dinner together. She was just draining the pasta when her mom came home.
 
“Hi mom,” Buffy said, bringing the drained pasta to the table.
 
“Hi, sweetheart,” said Joyce fondly as she hung up her coat. “Where’s your sister?”
 
Buffy sighed, “She’s in the tub, where she’s been for about a half hour now, after sleeping until noon and parking herself on the couch all day.”
 
“Hmm. Well, I’ll go tell her dinner is ready,” said Joyce. Buffy seemed unusually irritated with Dawn tonight. But Dawn could be a bit of a, well, a teenager sometimes. Joyce climbed the stairs and knocked on the bathroom door. “Dawnie? Are you coming out? Dinner’s ready.”
 
“Oh, hi mom!” came Dawn’s voice from behind the door. “I’ll be down in a minute. I’m just rinsing off.” Truthfully, she had only opened her eyes at her mother’s knock. But she would rinse off in a minute. Or two.
 
Joyce returned to the kitchen, where Buffy had laid the table and a simple but delicious spaghetti dinner was waiting. “Nicely done, honey,” said Joyce, sitting down. “How was your day today?”
 
“Ok, I guess,” said Buffy between mouthfuls. “Just feeling grouchy all day. “
 
“Anything in particular?” Joyce asked. Buffy didn’t really speak of her failed relationship with Riley much. Joyce wondered if that was still eating at her.
 
“Not really,” Buffy shrugged.
 
“Are you still upset about Riley?” Joyce asked quietly.
 
Buffy slammed her drink down loudly. “Why does everyone keep bringing him up? He left me! It sucked! I don’t need to keep rehashing it!” she shouted.
 
Joyce’s eyes widened. “Now you calm down, Buffy Anne Summers,” Joyce said sternly. “I just asked, and I don’t appreciate being shouted at.”
 
“Sorry, mom,” Buffy mumbled, ashamed at her outburst. “Just really tired of hearing his name.”
 
They ate in silence for a while. Buffy finished and cleared her plate, at which point Joyce realized that Dawn still hadn’t come down. “Dawn!” she called upstairs. “Your dinner is getting cold!”
 
“Just a minute,” Dawn called back, still deep in bubbles.
 
“She’s been like this all day. It’s maddening!” cried Buffy. She needed to get out of there. The sun had finally gone down, and the streetlights had come on outside. “I’m going to go patrol,” she announced. She grabbed her coat and a couple of stakes and bent to tie her sneakers.
 
“Be careful honey,” said her mom. Buffy kissed her cheek and then all but sprinted out the door. Joyce shook her head. She had no idea what had gotten into her daughters today. Must be a full moon or something, she thought as she headed upstairs to determine if Dawn was permanently glued to the bathtub.
 
Buffy stalked around Sunnydale on the warpath. She found two fledglings in the first cemetery, and was almost disappointed at how fast they dusted. She kept patrolling, getting aggravated at the lack of activity. Come on, you lazy ass demons. I’m in a mood to kill and you had better not take the night off. Finally, in the third cemetery, she heard a bunch of voices from one of the larger crypts. Peering in through the partially open door, she saw seven vampires gathered, sharing war stories. Grinning ear to ear, she kicked the door open. “Party’s over, boys,” she said cheerily. She pulled out a stake for each hand and laughed maniacally as blood and dust began to fill the air.
 
TBC