It Happened One Night
By: Golden Buffy



Summary:Dawn came clean, explaining what happened between Trinity and her. Anya explained the difference between a vengeance fairy and a vengeance demon, and Spike informed Buffy that he needed time to himself in response to her lying to him about the pregnancy.

Disclaimer: I had a ride all day pass in the Buffyverse, Joss sent it to me.

Author's Notes: The name of the Watcher and date of the slayer came from Tales of the Slayers. Quick note, it occurred to me some people might not know this, but Herr is Mister in German. So I hope not to confuse anyone by repeating it all the time. As always thanks to the very talented and wonderful Just_Sue for all her time in helping making my fic all pretty. If there are any type-o's I take full blame. And thanks once again to everyone who have reviewed. It means a lot to me. It Happened One Night also won Second Place over at Spark and Burn Awards for Best Romance. So to all who votes, thanks a bunch. I was very thrilled to know that I won.





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Chapter Fourteen: What's Eating William the Bloody?

Usually when people are sad, they don't do anything. They just cry over their condition. But when they get angry, they bring about a change.

Malcolm X, Malcolm X Speaks, 1965

We can be sure that the greatest hope for maintaining equilibrium in the face of any situation rests within ourselves.

Francis J. Braceland, O Magazine, April 2003

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“Bollocks,” Amanda mumbled under her breath. Huffing, she closed the journal she was looking through. The watcher had been on the road to discovery; the final parts that she needed to complete the puzzle were just out of reach. She had found the Watcher's Diary she had been searching for, one belonging to a Herr Lichtermann, from Germany.

After her brother's phone call a week ago, Amanda had hardly left the Council's library, digging deep into the old archives until she found what she was looking for. The name given for Herr Litchtermaan's ward was recorded as Unknown – her true name blacked out. The only facts known about the mystery slayer was that she was short lived, called and died in the same year – 1923. Cause of death was draining by a master vampire.

Amanda had read through the first account at least six times. The similarities between the past slayer and Buffy couldn't be missed. The unknown Chosen One wasn't found until she was called and by means of the Council tracking her down through their mages. She was briefly trained before being tossed out to the wolves, so to speak. Frankly, Amanda was surprised that Buffy had lasted so long. She was indeed a special girl.

The female watcher's second day of reading had shown something odd though. After skimming over the mundane that accompanied all watcher journals, Amanda noticed that there were no sketches or photos of the slayer. Pursing her lips, she marked her spot in the book and walked out of the library, taking the corridor to her left and walking down the long dimly lit hallway. The clicking of her heels was muffled by the thick burgundy carpet.

Taking a right at the end of the hallway she entered another hall, similar in length and lighting, except this hall was graced with portraits of past slayers. Even Miss Summers was to be found on these walls, along with her successors, Kendra Young and Faith Lehane. Traveling down the line, gazing at each name plaque detailing the activation and demise of each slayer, Amanda made her way to where the unknown slayer should have been. But there was nothing, just a blank name plaque. Puzzled, the brunette looked up at the empty picture frame and frowned.

'Most peculiar,' she thought before glancing to her left, taking note that there were no other portraits missing. The Council was very high on tradition, and an important one was making a likeness of each slayer for future generations to remember. It was tradition after all. They had started it when one watcher felt that it was important to record what his slayer looked like for prosperity, make some formal contribution to attest to what she was created to do on a nightly basis. A testament to her short lived and violent life which would force those who knew about the Slayer to remember her – to acknowledge that she hadn't died in vain.

Arching her brow, Amanda looked back and forth between Buffy's face and the blank space for the other slayer. “Most peculiar indeed.” She couldn't help but wonder what the Council was hiding. If they were hiding anything at all, that is.

Walking back to the library Amanda searched her brain, wondering who she could approach for possible support but at the same time not tip her hand as to why she needed the information. Travers was definitely not a welcome guest on this little quest for answers.

Day three found Amanda flipping over Herr Lichtermann's journal once again, and still not much closer to finding an end to her dilemma. Her brain was buzzing with questions but none were being answered.

“A penny for your thoughts?” A deep voice sounded above her ear. Amanda blinked, glancing up to her left, a coy smile playing on her lips.

Feigning tiredness she sat back in her chair with a huff. “Michael, how sweet of you to ask.”

It wasn't hard for her to flirt with him, he was quite handsome with dark brown eyes, olive skin and wavy jet black hair. And did she mention his Greek accent? Flirting wasn't hard at all.

She gestured for him to sit down. “I've been pouring over this journal for quite some time now. I was trying to locate a picture of this particular slayer since I couldn't find her on the slayer wall, but she's not detailed in her watcher's journal either.”

With a slight frown Michael reached out, taking the book from her outstretched hand. Gazing at the name of the watcher, recognition flashed over Michael's features.

“Herr Lichtermann only had one slayer, from the spring of 1923 to the early winter of the same year, when she was killed by a master vampire. Not much was known about her, not even her name. And, between her extensive training and slaying duties Herr Lichtermann didn't have time to have a painting commissioned.”

“Don't you find it all just a bit strange?” Amanda inquired, still leaning back in her chair.

“No, not at all. Before the Council started keeping pictures of their slayers there were no recorded means of remembering them. So, if a watcher became too busy to have a likeness made before her death, it may be a loss but nothing major,” he finished with a slight shrug.

“But there are pictures of all the slayers within the past nine decades but this one.”

Michael arched his brow in a skeptical fashion. Not wanting to raise any suspicion in him Amanda turned to a new topic of discussion.

“I was thinking, it's a bit late and I'm famished. Fancy grabbing a bite to eat?”

The Greek watcher smiled. “I'd love to.”

Amanda hurriedly put her things away then rose from her chair. Following Michael out of the library she thought, 'There's more than one way to skin a cat. And there was.

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The first day was easy for Spike. There were no thoughts of Buffy with her trembling bottom lip and watery eyes as she'd watched him march away from her the night before. Nope, he hadn't thought about her... much. Spike was almost completely slayer free, thanks to his best mates Jack Daniels and Captain Morgan. It took every bottle he had stashed in the crypt, but by the first rays of morning he staggered over to his sarcophagus for some much needed sleep. And, another blessing in disguise, Spike didn't dream, just drifted off into a dark oblivious slumber.

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The morning after, Buffy lifted her head from beneath her pillow and scrunched up her nose. Memories came flooding back and the slayer wished she could shut her brain off like a faucet. She had really mucked things up big time. The look of hurt and betrayal that flashed across Spike's face was foremost in her mind; in close second was his statement of needing time away from her. Buffy hadn't seen that coming. Hell, she couldn't get Spike to leave her alone when he was trying to kill her, when he was stalking her, and he even invaded her dreams. The only time he'd ever stayed away from her was the time she'd put him in a wheelchair.

She sat up with a groan; this was bad, really, really bad. Maybe it was selfish on her part but Buffy just wasn't ready for Spike not wanting to be there... with her. She'd become used to him. They hung out together, joked together, patrolled together. Not to mention the tiny void she felt when he was absent. It was strange really, that she could even feel this way because of him – but she did. Even if it was for only a little while - she hoped - Spike had left her, just like everyone else had. The thought made Buffy shudder. Was that the story of her life? All the men she ever loved, well kinda loved, 'cause hey, so not in love with Spike. But would they all leave her?

With that thought, getting out of bed was looking even less appealing than it had a moment ago. Maybe if she stayed here long enough then last night would disappear as if it had never happened, and she could set things right by telling Spike about the baby. This was the Hellmouth, stranger things had happened.

Wishful thinking, Buff. You just have to deal with the fact that you hurt Spike. He needs time, then you two can work things out. Buffy sent a mental pat on the back to her voice of reason, grateful as it lent some semblance of peace to her soul.

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Day two wasn't as great. To begin with, Spike woke to the mother of all hangovers with his brain feeling as if it would pulsate out of his skull. Getting drunk always seemed like the best idea but the morning after reminded the demon why it was not necessarily the brightest. Standing up, Spike noticed he still had his jeans on. He thought he'd taken those off before passing out. Giving a shrug of indifference, he staggered over to the fridge in search of food.

With breakfast out of the way he found he had nothing else to do. The sun was still shining, the birds were screeching, and the squirrels were making those god awful squirrelly noises as they foraged for nuts. Yup, this day had definitely started out shitty.

Flopping down on his worn chair, Spike flicked on the television; Passions was over and there wasn't anything else entertaining to watch. Nothing to do meant he was left to his thoughts, thoughts of Buffy. Thoughts of calling Buffy and apologizing for acting like the prize wanker he was. He could feel his resolve slipping away as his fingers itched for his cell phone.

'Okay, mate, need to keep your head. Told the slayer you needed time. So time you're gonna have, he finished with a nod, rubbing the palms of his hands on his jeans. This was going to be a long day.

Spike glanced around the crypt, at the discarded liquor bottles and the accumulation of dust on the floor. He wasn't one of the neatest vamps in Sunnyhell but he had standards. Just because one lived in a crypt didn't mean it had to be unkempt. Bending down to pick up a bottle Spike remembered he didn't own a broom, and a frustrated growl sounded as he sent the bottle flying through the air. It smashed into a wall, making a satisfying shattering sound before sending shards of glass scattering across the floor. The vampire dropped onto his tattered chair with a defeated sigh. These were the times he wished he had someone to talk to.

Vampire senses being what they were, he was alerted to a presence outside his crypt door just before the knock came and it opened. Spike watched as the day's light silhouetted the figure standing there.

“What are you doing here?” Spike asked.

“Uh... I can go if you want,” Dawn replied dejectedly.

“No. I mean, what are you doing here now? Shouldn't you be in school learning something?”

“Nah, school's overrated. Besides, I wanted to come and see you... if that is... I mean, if you want to see me?” Dawn suddenly found the hem of her shirt very interesting.

“It's fine, I could use the company.”

Dawn hurriedly closed the door before venturing the rest of the way inside; taking a seat atop one of the sarcophagi. Spike tracked her movements before walking over to his duster and pulling out his pack of cigarettes and lighter. Dawn smiled to herself; she loved catching Spike when he'd just waken up, all shirtless and sexy. Hey, he may be her surrogate big brother, but there were no rules saying one couldn't ogle pseudo siblings.

The teen looked around the crypt. “Drinking yourself into a stupor, and that's so smart, why?”

“Don't need your bitching,
Little Bit,” Spike answered around his fag before lighting it.

Dawn grinned at him as he mumbled his warning before rolling her eyes. “Well, did it help?”

“What'd you think?”

“Oooh, cranky and hung over. So I'll say, no.”

The vampire rolled his eyes this time before taking a hit from his cigarette.

“I'm sorry, Spike. You know I would have told you if I could. It's just, I was... and then Buffy was all with the defensive. I had to promise I wouldn't say anything. But, in my defense, I thought it was way wrong and immature on her part. I told her to tell you. But now I get to print up my banner.” Dawn finished, with a huge grin.

“It's okay, Niblet.” Spike arched his brow, “What banner?”

“The banner of “I told you so, Buffy,” but that's beside the point. The point is - no, it's not okay.” Dawn paused, sighing deeply. “And then I go and make friends with some vengeance fairy who reads minds. If I could just learn to keep my nose out of other people's business.” She gave a small shrug. “But it wasn't like I set out to find Trinity, it just happened. Still, I should have left things up to my sister.”

“Cut the pity party. Like I said, it's not your fault. It's just something me and big sis need to work out. I don't blame you, got it?”

“Yeah, I do,” Dawn agreed reluctantly.

“Right then,” Spike said with a nod before flicking his cigarette butt to the ground.

“So, when are you gonna make up with Buffy? All she does now is mope around the house and pout.”

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Day two found Buffy trudging down the hall and into her dorm room. She had deluded herself into thinking that one day would be enough, that Spike would pop up when she was out on patrol, and tell her what a bitch she was. She'd get pissed off, fight the urge to break his nose, and then everything would go back to normal. Sadly, that hadn't happen.

She'd stayed out an hour longer than normal, praying that he would come. But there was nothing. Spike wasn't even lurking in the bushes. Buffy thought about dropping past his crypt, but decided against it. He'd said he needed space and, no matter how much it hurt, Buffy was determined to fulfill his request.

Tossing her backpack on the bed, Buffy followed close behind. She had packing to do. The slayer was just too tired between school, slaying, Dawn-saveage - and other mundane tasks - to look after herself properly. She had proven that the night before when her mom pointed out the fact that slim jims and cheese whiz do not make a healthy diet for a pregnant woman. It only seemed logical to move back home. Joyce had suggested it after Buffy crawled out of bed and finally emerged from the bathroom yesterday. Buffy thought it was a wonderful idea but completely forgot about the packing up her belongings part.

After deciding a nap was in order before packing, Buffy had just gotten comfortable when there was a knock at the door.

“It's open.”

Dawn pushed open the door and slipped inside.

“Hey, Buffy,” she greeted the blonde cheerily.

The slayer regarded her sister with a raised brow. “What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in school.”

“Yeah, I know, but I wanted to come here and help instead,” the teen replied, coming over to sit on Buffy's bed.

“How did you get out of school?”

“I wrote a note signing mom's name. Yup, that's me, bad to the bone Summers,” Dawn quipped with a smirk.

Buffy found her sister's quirky sense of humor infectious and started to giggle herself, vaguely thinking that Dawn was spending way too much time with Spike. Her smirk could rival his. Not that she was going to stop her from seeing him though. With that thought a frown creased her brow.

Dawn leaned over, covering Buffy's hand with hers. “It'll be okay, Buffy. Just trust me.” And somehow Buffy did trust Dawn. But she really wanted her best friend back. The slayer glanced over at her sister, there was something she needed to say.

“Dawnie,” Buffy began as she took the younger girl's hand in hers. “I want you to know that it wasn't your fault.” Buffy paused to look Dawn in the eye. “None of it, got that? It was me, all me. If I wasn't so scared and being - well, myself - then you wouldn't have bothered with the wish in the first place. So, I guess what I'm saying is, I'm sorry, wish I had listened to you in the first place. Well, everyone truthfully, except Xander - he was never on board with the whole...”

“Buffy, stop, you're babbling. And I totally get your apology and I accept, plus I'm so not wanting to hear what Xander's advice was.” Dawn finished gently squeezing Buffy's fingers in a supportive gesture. The two sat in silence for a while before Buffy leaned over, giving Dawn a quick sniff.

“Dawnie, have you been smoking?” she asked before leaning back in to sniff at Dawn suspiciously.

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On day three Spike found he could no longer take it, all this avoiding Buffy was starting to make him irritable. Yeah, he went out and had his spot of violence - avidly avoiding Buffy's haunts - but he missed their friendship; their talks at night, their banter, her playful flirtyness, her laughter at one of his corny jokes.

Damn, he missed her.

With a frustrated growl, Spike grabbed his duster and headed for the sewers.

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Joyce was setting up a window display when the horrid pounding in her head began once more. Sighing, she stepped out of the window and went back to her office to retrieve Tylenol and water. Sitting in her chair for a moment Joyce tried collecting her thoughts, but it seemed hard to of the late. Once they started to scatter it took her a while to join them all back together. It was worrying her more than she cared to admit. At first she was able to chalk it up to stress and working long hours, but as the weeks progressed the symptoms were starting to get worse. Maybe she was overreacting. Reading too much into things.

“Joyce?”

Startled she looked up. “Oh... Spike, how are you?”

Frowning, Spike walked further into the room. “You feelin' okay?”

“Yes, I'm fine. Just a small headache. I should be asking if you're okay.” Joyce gave Spike one of her knowing smiles before gesturing for him to take a seat, happy to change the focus of the conversation.

He sat down with a weary sigh; he knew when not to push a topic. Joyce cleared her throat as she waited for the vampire to continue.

“Good,” he paused to smile at her. “Going out of my soddin' mind. So much running around up there.”

Joyce went back to her motherly smile. “It's understandable, sweetie. But it's been three days; do you think you need more time?”

“Not really sure. Never done anything like this before.”

“You'll know what to do, Spike. Just follow your heart.” Joyce rose to her feet to head back out to the gallery. Her head was starting to feel better and she wasn't as light headed as she felt earlier. Spike followed, glad to delay a return to his crypt, glad he had when Joyce lost her balance and tumbled to the floor, unconscious. Spike didn't think, just reacted, as he knelt down beside her to check for a pulse.

It was stupid, really, with him being a vampire and all. He could detect the heart beat a mile away. Spike concluded that he'd been spending way too much time around humans. His fingers rested on her neck and found Joyce's pulse, steady but faint.

Scooping her up in his arms, he paused only long enough to grab her purse on the way out. Digging around, Spike located Joyce's car keys before dashing out into the fading afternoon light. Laying her down gently in the back seat, he slid into the front before pulling off with a screech of tyres.

Destination: Sunnydale Memorial Hospital.

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“Did you do your homework?”

“Oh, joy. The wonders of having my big sister back home with us. Now I get double the harping on about my academic performance,” Dawn complained as she sarcastically rolled her eyes.

Buffy was about to respond with a witty retort of her own but was interrupted by the ringing of the phone.

“Saved by the bell.” Buffy walked over to the kitchen phone picking it up. “Casa de Summers, how may I help you?”

There was a moment's pause on the other before the person spoke. “Buffy?”

Buffy's heart leaped in her throat, it was Spike. How should she respond to him? Should she sound thrilled? Excited? Aloof? She had no idea. Spike took the decision away from her with his next words.

“Joyce is in the hospital.”

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Everything moved in slow motion. Spike had given the room number so the duo could find their mother with no problem. Buffy didn't remember calling Giles but he soon arrived at the house to take them to the hospital. Dawn was in a state of panic as she kept looking towards Buffy for reassurance. The blonde wasn't much help as she just sat numbly in the front passenger seat of the car staring out the window. Things seemed to go from bad to worse. First Spike wasn't talking to her and now her mother was back in the hospital.

Buffy wanted to cry. Why? Why was this happening? 'Just calm down, you don't know why she's in the hospital. Deep cleansing breaths. Everything will be fine. Buffy tried to talk herself into believing that, but since Spike hadn't been able tell her much she had little to go on.'Less stress is better for the baby, she chanted in her head as she placed a hand on her tummy.

The hospital eventually came into view, and Buffy was out of the car before Giles had slowed down to park. She burst through the doors, causing a few nurses and patients to look at her. Buffy didn't care; all she was focused on was finding her mom. Dawn ran catching up with her sister, standing beside her she took her hand in hers. She turned to face the nurse. “We're looking for a Joyce Summers.”

The room was located halfway down the hall, a very long looking hallway at that. So caught up in her nervousness Buffy failed to notice Giles and Dawn who had picked up their pace and caught up with the slayer.

She was nervous. Nervous at seeing her mother and, nervous at the fact that she might see Spike. Buffy couldn't help but wonder if he would still be there when she walked in. She felt bad; here she was thinking about seeing Spike while her mother was lying in a hospital bed. Just how bad of a daughter was she?

Dawn couldn't wait and ran ahead of the two of them and into the room. Buffy sped up her stride to catch up, entering the room she was momentarily disappointed when she didn't feel Spike, but the moment quickly passed as soon as her eyes landed on Joyce.

“Mommy,” Dawn cried, launching herself into her mother's outstretched arms. Joyce held her youngest child tightly, smiling into her hair. The teen didn't want to let go, it seemed like another bad dream, but minus the evil wish granting fairy. Here she was back in the hospital with her sick mother. Dawn was starting to hate this place as much as Buffy.

“I'll just leave the three of you alone,” Giles remarked, stepping back out of the room. He wanted to see for himself that Joyce was alright before heading off to find her doctor.

“Are you okay? What happened? Why did Spike bring you here?” Buffy spat out the questions in a rapid sequence.

Joyce nudged Dawn up and off of her shoulder to make room for Buffy. She patted the mattress waiting for her to join them. Buffy hesitantly made her way over to sit down.

“Well, as of right now, I'm waiting to be taken down for an MRI.”

The slayer nibbled her bottom lip. “Is... is the tumor back?”

Joyce sighed. “From the preliminary tests it looks that way.”

Dawn closed her eyes, repressing the tears that wanted to spill. “What does that mean? Are you... are you going to die?” she whispered the last part almost fearfully.

“We won't know for sure until the MRI is complete. Once Doctor Issac knows what he's dealing with, then we can form a plan of operation for removal or whatever.”

Buffy glanced at her mother from the side of her eye as she calmly griped her hand, “You seem kinda calm for a woman who could have an evil tumor growing on her brain... again.” She furrowed her brow in contemplation before continuing. “How did it come back so fast?”

Joyce responded by pulling her girls down to her and giving them a tight hug. “Sometimes tumors are aggressive like this. But don't worry, it'll be alright. You'll see. Everything will be just fine.”

After speaking briefly with Doctor Issac Giles drove the girls home, only leaving once Buffy promised to keep him posted on her mother's condition. The slayer was upset, it was like hitting the rewind button on a remote-control and starting all over. And again, she found herself at a loss to the small intruder invading her mother's brain. She was the Slayer, she saved the world... a lot, and yet she couldn't save her mother from something so small.

They walked up the front porch and Buffy pulled out her keys to open the door. The house was dark and uninviting. Dawn mumbled something about heading to her room, or at least that's what Buffy thought she heard her say before she wandered into the kitchen. Her stomach growled, but she wasn't much in the mood for eating. A little voice in her head that sounded much like Joyce reminded her that she was no longer eating for herself. With heavy feet Buffy made her way over to the fridge.

As she sat at the kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal, she listened as Dawn readied herself for bed. The sounds of the toilet flushing, and water running through the pipes filled the silence. Buffy's eyes tracked the creaks in the floor beams above as her sister made her way to her room. Sighing, she got up from the table and placed her bowl in the sink, then headed out to the back porch.

Buffy gazed up at the clear night sky before burying her head in her hands. The soft crunch of the grass was the only thing that alerted her to that fact that she was no longer alone.

“Déjà vu, huh?” Spike commented, looking down at her bowed head.

Snapping her head up, Buffy expected to find Spike standing in front of her, but he wasn't.

The voice in her head sounded so clear, so real - even to the crunching of the grass - but it was all an illusion. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to fend off a chill of dread and fear. She needed solace and peace. Getting up with a ragged sigh, the Slayer headed back into the house.

Spike was there in the dark, watching her from afar. Watching as she cried out her sorrow, as she scanned the night looking for something or someone. Spike knew he was that someone and moved further into the dark not wishing to be discovered. He watched as Buffy made her way back inside before turning to leave.

She glanced at the clock, it wasn't that late, only a little past twelve. Dawn was asleep in her bed. Buffy did a quick sweep of the house, checking the windows and the locks before grabbing a light jacket and heading out the front door.

She walked, letting her feet decide the destination. Buffy had no clue where to go, Giles couldn't offer the reassurances she needed, neither could Willow and Xander.

How she wished the tumor was some kind of demon, then she could kick its ass. Demons she got. She knew how to deal with them, it was normal for her. But illnesses, death, turmoil, those were foreign concepts to the slayer, and took much more emotions to sort out and accept. And their asses she could not kick.

Buffy came to rest outside a small church, the lights were dim but she knew it was open. The few churches that weren't condemned or burnt down stayed open twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. They were a haven to those citizens who found themselves out late at night, needing salvation from the monsters that hunted them. Buffy needed saving, but from a different kind of monster.

The interior smelled of burnt sandalwood and frankincense. The pews had been freshly cleaned with some kind of fragrant soap which lent a homey feel to the place. Buffy's feet led her to the rack of votive candles. Some were lit, and Buffy watched as their flames danced around in their glass prisons. They seemed to beckon to her, enticing her to join them. She hadn't been to church since she was a little girl, her step-grandmother used to drag her there when she came to visit. Buffy couldn't wait for her to leave, but now she seemed drawn here, of all places. She'd seen enough movies and read her share of books to know what to do next. She used one of the lit candles to light hers. Kneeling with her hands held together Buffy did something she hadn't done in a really long time.

Taking a deep breath she started in hushed tones. “I haven't done this is years, not sure you're even there, but I'm going out on a limb. I... please just make everything better, please. Make my mom better, don't take her away from me and Dawnie. She... she's my strength, my rock. I don't think I could have been the slayer as long as I have without her. God, I would gladly give up my life for my mom's. Okay, not literally since I'm pregnant, but you get my drift. Just, please, make my mommy better.” She finished in a whisper as she collapsed into sobs. Buffy just hoped that God, The Powers That Be, or anyone else up there was listening and would answer her prayer.

A gentle hand rested on her shoulder causing her to start. She glanced up into warm blue eyes.

“Is everything all right?” a kind voice asked. “You seem troubled.”

Buffy rose to her feet, flinching a little at the dull pain that greeted her. How long had she been kneeling?

“No, I, I'm fine... now,” she added as an afterthought. Because now she did feel somewhat at peace.

“You've been here for some time. I heard you crying and came to see but didn't want to disturb you. It's just that it's getting very late and I wouldn't want you to have to head out alone.”

Giving her watch a quick glance she was surprised to see that it was now one thirty. She needed to get back home. “Thanks for the concern, Father, but I'm cool,” she ended with a small smile. “I really need to be getting home.”

A quick wave and Buffy walked to the door, once on the street she jogged home. Up the steps and down the hall. She opened Dawn's door to see the girl sleeping, face huddled under her blankets. Sighing, Buffy made her way back to her room, shimmied out of her clothes and climbed into bed. Tomorrow felt as if it would be a better day.

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