Her mother didn’t disturb her as she brushed Buffy’s hair back from her face. Buffy barely noticed; she was so accustomed to her mother’s affectionate gestures that they barely registered. As usual, Angel occupied most of her thoughts; she’d see him tonight. Her mother’d be asleep when she got home, probably, but Buffy always half-expected her mom to flick on the porch light and ask where she’d been.

A crash from the hall startled Buffy from her reverie. “Sorry,” muttered Kennedy, retrieving the sword she’d dropped.

Buffy closed her eyes again, but it was too late. Her mother was gone.