Buffy, Tara and Willow all woke up groggy and exhausted. After minimal speech and long showers, they gathered in the living room to survey the damage.
 
“Hoo boy,” Buffy sighed.
 
“Everything is better with breakfast,” Tara said. “C’mon. Will and I don’t need to leave for another couple hours. We’ll eat pancakes, and then we’ll clean. It’ll be like fun bonding time.”
 
“Please don’t tell me that’s ever worked with Dawn,” Buffy said.
 
“I keep hoping… but no.” Tara smiled weakly.
 
Willow linked her arm through Buffy’s, and tugged her towards the kitchen. Buffy was stiff and unresponsive, and didn’t return Willow’s encouraging smile. She seems so sad. We survived an evil thingy, we should be all triumphant now.
 
Buffy could sense Willow’s disappointment. I’m sure if I try a little bit harder, I can smile. Buffy grimaced. Maybe not.
 
Tara and Willow bustled around the kitchen, leaving Buffy sitting at the counter staring off into space. The silence was awkward, but not entirely uncomfortable.
 
When they were all seated with plates of pancakes and mugs of coffee, Tara said, “So Mr Giles called last night. He’s going to come straight here sometime this afternoon.”
 
Buffy smiled, a real smile. “That’s good.”
 
“I’m amazed he got a flight so quickly,” Willow said.
 
“Um,” Tara started. “H-how are you feeling this morning, Buffy?”
 
“Peachy. With a side of keen.” Buffy wasn’t meeting their eyes. She made a better attempt at a smile, then held up her wrist to Tara. It was still red and angry, but the cut was now completely closed over. “And look ma, no bandages. Yay Slayer healing.”
 
Tara’s eyes opened wide. That was deep enough to kill last night….
 
“W-what happened?” Willow asked. That Tara and Buffy know about and I don’t?
 
“The traveller made a last-ditch attempt, after you were unconscious,” Tara explained. “It p-p-p-possessed Buffy and tried to get her to k-kill herself.”
 
“Oh,” Willow said. Sounds like lots happened while I was unconscious.
 
“Where’s Spike?” Buffy asked. When they didn’t immediately answer, she looked worried and confused. “I mean, he really does live here. Right?” God, conversation is exhausting.
 
Why is she asking about Spike? Willow wondered. It’s not like she’s still all feral-Buffy and  needs him to keep her from hurting people. “Um, in his room sleeping, I guess?” she said. “He kinda fixed up the basement,” she added.
 
Spike lives in my basement. Not in my bedroom.
 
Guessing Buffy’s real question was ‘why wasn’t he there when I woke up’, Tara said, “Spike gets Dawn up for school in the mornings – makes her breakfast and stuff. I’m sure that’s why he left—”
 
Tara cut herself off abruptly. Willow had told her that Buffy had issues with people leaving, but Tara wasn’t sure whether she officially knew that. Plus, she didn’t know how open Buffy wanted to be about Spike staying in her room. She’d nearly gotten Buffy killed last night by jumping to conclusions; she really didn’t want to do it again.
 
“Oh,” Buffy said. Spike was with Dawn. And is now sleeping. Huh. Buffy looked down at her plate. Do I need a knife for pancakes? She watched Tara and Willow eating. Not using knives. Just a fork then. She took a bite of pancake. I can do this. This can’t be harder than pizza.
 
Buffy managed to eat one pancake. It still felt a little overwhelming. She hoped cleaning would be easier.
 
“Xander can board up the window later,” Willow said as the three women returned to the living room. “And maybe re-plaster the wall.”
 
Buffy went over to the armchair that was stuck in the window, and pulled it out one-handed. “I don’t think this is recoverable. Or maybe it could be? You know, re-covered. What do you think?”
 
Tara looked at the chair. “I think it’s a goner. At least one leg is broken.”
 
Buffy carried the chair out the front door, and put it on the curb. Then the TV.
 
Tara was gathering up the food and pieces of coffee table into a garbage bag.
 
Willow just stood and watched them. There’s got to be an easier way to do this. She thought through several possible incantations, and finally decided on one. Whispering under her breath, she released the spell while Tara was putting the now-full garbage bag outside and Buffy was getting out the vacuum cleaner.
 
All the glass and other debris whirled up and around the room, hanging like mist for a few seconds, before Willow brought it all together into a glittering mini-cyclone. With a small pop, it all dropped into the garbage bag Willow was holding open.
 
Smiling, she looked up from her handiwork to see Tara and Buffy staring at her from the doorway.
 
“Willow,” Tara said, shocked. “What was that?”
 
“I got rid of all the glass. Neat, huh?” Willow grinned.
 
Tara gave her a watery smile. “We could have just vacuumed.” This is wrong.
 
“Yeah, but, hey! This way is much quicker.”
 
“I’m gonna go deal with the mess in my room,” Buffy said, taking the vacuum upstairs. Cleaning is uncomplicated. I can do cleaning.
 
Willow and Tara watched her go.
 
“Is she okay?” Willow asked. “Was it bad? What happened last night?”
 
“It was scarier for me than it was for them, I think,” Tara said, rubbing at her wrist – still sore, but thankfully not broken.  “Spike just restrained her,” Tara said, dismissing last night with a wave of her hand.
 
Spike! Pfft! Willow thought.
 
“But Willow,” Tara continued. “That wasn’t right, what you did. You can’t use magic for cleaning.”
 
“Aw c’mon, Baby,” Willow said. “It was just a little spell.”
 
Tara sighed. I shouldn’t have to explain this. I really don’t want to have to explain this. Later. We’ll talk about it later, when I’m not so tired. “Help me take the rug out?”
 
Willow nodded.
 
With the rug gone, all that was left was putting the curtain rod back up, plastering the wall and boarding the window – all of which could wait until Xander came with tools.
 
Buffy came downstairs with a garbage bag and the vacuum.
 
“All done. Now we just need to buy some new stuff. Who’s up for shopping?” God, the mall, all those people. Buffy shuddered. But retail therapy is good. I think.
 
Willow and Tara looked at each other, then at Buffy, both thinking, she doesn’t know about the money.
 
“Uh, Buffy,” Willow said tentatively. “I know you're still getting back on your feet after….”
 
“Lying flat on my back?” Buffy said.
 
Tara and Willow winced.
 
“Um. Yeah,” Willow faltered. “There's some money stuff we have to talk to you about.”
 
“As in, you’re almost out of it,” Tara added.
 
“But, I haven't spent any money.” Buffy said, confused. “I was all dead and frugal.”
 
“I know, this comes as a bit of a shock after ... a bit of a shock. It caught us by surprise, too,” Tara said sympathetically. “Maybe you should sit down.”
 
Buffy frowned, but went to sit on the sofa. Willow and Tara sat down on either side of her.
 
“Your Mom prepared everything really well,” Willow said. “She had insurance. Um. Life insurance.”
 
Mom died. That’s why she’s gone. Buffy suddenly felt tears welling up.
 
She survived cancer, but then she died. Right here on this couch.
 
Can’t cry now. Talking. Money. Shopping. Buffy pulled her spine up straighter, shoving down the grief trying to break free.
 
“Which should have left you covered,” Tara continued. “Except … hospital bills.”
 
“They pretty much sucked up all the money.” Willow put her arms around Buffy and gave her a light hug. Buffy was still staring straight ahead, body rigid. “Which you're still kinda haemorrhaging, by the way.”
 
“How'd I do that?” Buffy asked, dazed. Haemorrhaging is blood. I’m not bleeding anymore. Am I? She looked at her wrist. All healed up.
 
“Not you,” Tara said. “The house. See, this house, just sitting here, doing nothing, in itself costs money.”
 
Buffy started laughing. Willow let go of her, shocked.
 
Buffy stopped laughing abruptly. No laughing. “So I'm broke?” Buffy said. At least it’s not evil. And no one else is dead. Except Spike. He’s evil and dead.
 
“Not yet,” Tara hedged. “But….”
 
“Shopping for new furniture is definitely not an option right now,” Willow said firmly.
 
“Right,” Buffy said. “No retail therapy.” Buffy’s face went still, and she just stared straight ahead. I don’t know how to do this. Any of it. And they expect me to fix everything. All she wanted to do was crawl back into bed. Or maybe kill something. Killing something would be better.
 
“Um, Buffy, we gotta get to class now,” Willow said awkwardly. “Are you okay? Because if you need us to stay, we could maybe skip?”
 
Tara nodded encouragingly.
 
Buffy looked up at them. “Huh? Oh, no, I’m fine. You go. Learn stuff.” She practiced her fake smile again. It was looking almost natural now. “I’ll go to the bank later. They help with stuff like this, right? Loans and … stuff.”
 
Willow grinned at her. She’s getting better. “That sounds great, Buffy!”
 
“We’ll be home late tonight,” Tara said. “So, see you then?”
 
Buffy nodded, losing the energy to keep her smile in place.
 
Willow and Tara gathered up their things and left.
 
Buffy just sat there, staring at the spot where the TV used to be, and tried to remember how she used to cope. She was drowning under the weight of expectations. Suffocating. Again. She could feel tears coming.
 
It was a relief when the doorbell rang. She forced herself to suppress the bad thoughts.
 
It was so much more of a relief when she realised it was Giles.
 
They just stood there, on either side of the doorway for a second, staring at each other.
 
“My God, Buffy,” he said. “You're alive. You're here.” Then Buffy threw herself into his arms, hugging him as hard as she could. “And you're still” – he grunted, feeling a rib crack – “remarkably strong.”
 
“Huh? Oh. Sorry.” Buffy backed off, then hugged him again, only breaking away when his back-patting became frantic from lack of oxygen.
 
“Anya told me … and Tara,” Giles wheezed. “But I didn’t really let myself believe….”
 
“I take some getting used to. I'm still getting used to me.” Buffy smiled, shyly. It is so good to see you again.
 
“It's ... you're a….”
 
“A miracle?”
 
“Yes. But then, I've always thought so.” He touched her face. My Buffy. Alive.
 
Buffy grabbed the suitcase out of his hand, and pulled him into the house.
 
“Tea?” Buffy asked, heading into the kitchen. “We have lots.”
 
Giles stared at the assortment of boxes she was pointing at. Every herbal concoction known to man or Wicca, plus Assam, Earl Grey and a box of PG Tips. Different people live here now. Spike lives here now.
 
“PG, please, Buffy.” Every time he said her name something within him sang. “So….”
 
“I can start,” she said, putting on the kettle. Boiling water for tea. I can do this. “How was England?” Her face started to drag around the edges. “How was … life?” You were alive and I … was not.
 
“I'm not sure how to answer that. I arrived home. Met with the council.”
 
“Tons of fun.” Didn’t we stop working with them? No, they … they came back last year, for something. I can’t remember….
 
Giles nodded. “Other than that, there isn't much to report. I keep a flat in Bath. Saw a few old friends and almost made a new one, which I believe is statistically impossible for a man my age.” He smiled weakly.
 
“What about Jenny?” Buffy asked, getting out a mug and putting in a teabag.
 
“J-Jenny?” Giles stammered. Images of roses and the scent of death rushed into his mind. A baseball bat. Such unbearable pain.
 
“Yeah, you know, your ‘orgasm friend’. Who left because things here were too weird.” Buffy tried to make her voice light and teasing, but she had a sinking feeling she’d made a mistake. She’d forgotten something important. Why did I think it would be funny to ask about the orgasm friend? What’s wrong with me? Her hands were shaking when she poured the water into the mug.
 
“O-Olivia, you mean.” Giles’ heart was stuttering in his chest as he tried to get to grips with what he was hearing.
 
“Right,” Buffy said, trying to smile, stirring milk into the tea. “Olivia. Of course. So,” Buffy’s voice got very small and scared. “Who’s Jenny then?”
 
“A … an old girlfriend who – who died.” Dear god, she’s not…. How much of her memory – this is…. Giles’ brain stuttered to a stop.
 
Buffy passed him the mug of tea. Their eyes met.
 
“Sorry. My bad,” Buffy said. He knows something’s wrong.
 
“It’s alright.” Something’s terribly wrong. “Buffy … to return from some unknown level of Hell ... it's only natural coming back would be a process.”
 
She laughed; it was not a happy sound. Should I tell him? “And in the meantime, I'm scaring people.” Almost killed Dawn.
 
“That may take some time, too.” What did Willow do? Was it the interruption? Could she have made a mistake in the ritual?
 
“Good. I've always hoped to freak out the people who love me. And not just in the short-term, but you know – as a lifestyle.” Life. My life. Living.
 
“If it's any consolation, life can get overwhelming even for people who haven't been ... where you have.” Giles took a sip of his tea. He didn’t taste it.
 
“I guess, but I don't know, Giles, I mean ... spoons are still weird to me. And I know my … my memory isn’t … right.” Buffy’s voice was breaking. Please don’t make me talk about what I’ve forgotten. Her eyes were wide and scared.
 
I don’t want to push her. “You mustn’t put too much pressure on yourself.” He sighed. I wonder how much the others have noticed. “You’ve got friends who – I’m sure we all just want to help.”
 
“Sure. Friends.” Who pulled me out of heaven. Great friends. “They’re all real helpful.”
 
“Tara … Tara said that Spike was living here now.”
 
“Yeah, that surprised me too. He looks after Dawn.” And me, now, I guess. Nanny Spike. Buffy suppressed a giggle.
 
Giles gave her an odd look. “And he’s been … behaving himself? Since your return?”
 
Buffy was unable to hold the next giggle in. “He’s been better behaved than me,” she said. Giles looked slightly sick. Buffy’s face went still and serious. “I wasn’t … myself … at first. Spike was the only one who was strong enough to….” she trailed off. “I tried to kill Dawn.”
 
Giles’ stomach dropped. “Oh Buffy.” My poor dear girl. “But, she’s alright? I mean….”
 
Buffy nodded. “Spike stopped me in time.” That time.
 
Giles nodded. I never thought I would be grateful for Spike. I don’t think her mind would have survived had she been successful. “Anya said there was a manifestation of evil magic, possessions….”
 
Sure. Possession. “Yeah, it’s been non-stop fun here on the Hellmouth!” She paused. “All the evil is dead now, though.” And I’m still alive.
 
“Good. That’s good.” Giles sipped his tea again. “You look tired.” More like exhausted. Broken.
 
“Nah. Well. All fight and no sleep makes for a tired Buffy. But I’m sure now it’s calmed down I’ll sleep okay. Great even, except for, you know ... the dreams….” Buffy’s eyes were haunted. She started staring into space again.
 
Giles put down his mug, and gently laid his hand on her shoulder. “You seem to be doing remarkably well under extreme circumstances. I'm proud of you.”
 
Proud. Huh. “Well, you know, it wasn't me. Willow brought me back. I just lay there.”
 
“Yes. I only meant—”
 
“I know what you meant. Just a little post post-mortem comedy….” Buffy smiled her fake smile again. I’m getting better at this. “Anyway, I better get going. I need to go talk to the bank about a loan.”
 
“A loan?”
 
“One of my fun surprises? Turns out the money mom left me got squandered on luxuries like food and clothing.”
 
I suppose it would do … the medical bills can’t have been cheap. “How bad is it?” Ha! What a question.
 
“Willow says bad. I'm kinda taking her word for it. Complex financial issues are … complex, right now.”
 
“Yes. I can imagine they would be.” She couldn’t remember Dawn … can’t remember Jenny. Can she even do this?
 
Buffy stared off into the distance again. I’ll get a loan. It’ll be fine. She turned to Giles. “I'm glad you're back.”
 
“I'm glad you are too.” And it was true, he was, but he was also worried about what exactly was back, and what was … not.
 
Giles sat finishing his tea, while he listened to Buffy get ready to leave.
 
I need a proper drink.
 
When he heard the door shut behind her, Giles started looking through cupboards. He was pleasantly surprised when he found the bottle of Laphroig. He didn’t remember Joyce liking whiskey much, and he couldn’t imagine anyone else in the house—
 
Spike. This must be Spike’s. Because Spike lives here.
 
Giles filled his glass to the brim.
 
This can’t be real. She’s alive, but she’s not back. Spike lives here – saved Dawn from Buffy. Dawn, who should have died.
 
Spike watched him take the first sip from the basement doorway.
 
“’Lo, Rupes. See you’ve found my stash.”
 
Giles jumped.
 
“Bit early, though, innit?” Spike smirked. “Don’t you know you’ll never find anything but trouble and pain at the bottom of a bottle?”
 
A thousand possible retorts flew through Giles’ head, but in the end he opted for the truth. “I just spoke to Buffy. I needed … something.”
 
“So,” Spike sighed, no longer in the mood for teasing. “What did she forget?”
 
“Not what, who. Jenny.”
 
“That gypsy bird Angelus killed?”
 
Giles nodded, taking another swallow of whiskey. Whatever his vices, Spike doesn’t lie. Not when it hurts more to tell the truth. “How bad is it? Really?”