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When morning finally came, she was still sitting on the floor of her bedroom. Her legs were cramped and her head ached, it felt like she had a massive hangover. She touched her cheeks, shocked at how little of the swelling had gone down. The skin had actually split in some places, small delicate tears to release the pressure.

There was a knock at her door, and she was too terrified to approach it. She didn't get the chance, as it opened by itself. She tried to get up and turn around, so that the person couldn't see her tattered face, but her legs were too tight for much movement. “God, Buffy what happened? Spike told me you looked beat up, but I didn't expect this.”

“Dawn, it's nothing. Don't worry about it.” She hoisted herself up with the assistance of a nearby chair. “Wait, did you just say that Spike told you? Spike was talking about me?”

“Buffy he was really worried, and no wonder.” She reached out her hand to move some of the hair from her sister's face, but Buffy pulled quickly away.

"Don't touch me!" She screamed a little too loudly and made sure to lower her voice the next time she spoke. "It stings."

"I've never seen you look this bad before."

"Thanks so much. Look can we have this conversation a little later?"

"Whatever you say Buffy, but I think it's important right now."

"Dawn!" She mentally stopped herself from screaming again. "I'm just really tired, and want to get cleaned up. Why don't you finish getting ready for school? We can talk later if you still want to."

"Alright, and I'm going to want to. Was the thing all big and ugly?" Buffy glared at her. "I know, later, later." She closed the door behind her, and it was quiet again.

"He definitely was big and ugly." Buffy said as a tear slid down towards her chin.

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"I'm worried about her." Dawn was sitting on the armchair in Spike's crypt, nervously toying with her necklace. She didn't really want to be here, but she didn't know where else to go. He'd come to her first about the whole situation anyway. She really didn't know why he cared at all, but he did.

"I'm worried about her too Bit." He inhaled deeply on his cigarette, the fourth he'd started since Dawn arrived an hour ago. "What did she say this morning?"

"Only that she didn't want to talk about it. Whatever the thing was, it must have been really bad to have done that to her."

"I'd rather not think about that pet. And why are you here breaking up the monotony of my morning instead of learning about the Pythagorean Theorem or some other such useless bullshit. Not that I mind of course, just going to try the whole being responsible thing."

"Didn't feel like going. Couldn't concentrate anyway. It's all wiggy how she looks. I don't think she showered or anything after it happened, and she always does. It's just like she's off. You don't think it put
a spell on her do you? This thing?"

"No idea luv. She was mean to me, but what else is new. I promise you that we'll work this all out."

"Thanks Spike." She stared at the floor. "I think I want to hug you. Would that be weird?"

"Nah, I bloody well think it's called for." He walked over to her and put his arms around her back. "You need anything, you come and get me. I'll take care of it. But don't tell Buffy. I don't think she'd like the idea. How does that sound?"

"Like something I might take you up on."

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She'd washed three times since Dawn had left that morning, burning showers that left welts on the small amount of skin that was unbruised and more forcefully assaulted her butchered flesh. She chafed the lacerated tissue with a washcloth soaked in soap and later her blood as she tried to scrub it all away.
But she wasn't clean. The filthy imprint he left her with was still there. Even as the water had flowed slightly pink down the drain, she felt its presence, the sick twisted film that had covered her body and her mind could not be burned off by scalding jets or scoured away with candy apple shower gel. And she'd tried. God, how she'd tried.

Her hair dripped over her cheeks, but she'd learned to ignore the light throb the rivulets left in their wake. It should have stopped hurting hours ago, but it hadn't. It's all in your head she kept trying to tell herself, but everything was too real to be imaginary.


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