For eleven hundred years, I needed no one. I lived every day alone. With no one except whatever girl had cursed her man to keep me company.

But I wasn't lonely. I didn't have time to be lonely. With all the filthy philandering men in the world, there was rarely a day off, let alone time to be lonely. And I suppose I can blame all the time I spent alone on the job I had; on what I was -- I mean, as a demon, you don't exactly garner friends and lovers. But that wouldn't be true.

Truth be told though, I didn't like humans. 'Petty, squabbling, unfaithful and simple animals' was how I viewed them. Some days now, I marvel at how right I nearly was. Just watch the news on any given night and check out the murder and mayhem all over the world. Humans without regard for each other, for the life they've been given. I can't watch the news anymore. It makes me too sad to see what people can do to each other. Thank goodness there are also people who understand the gift of life, and rush to help preserve it at every turn. People like firemen, and policemen, and doctors. Slayers and Watchers. People who aren't Slayers or Watchers, but who step in to help anyway. People who stop to help at an accident, or who hold a child who has just seen something scary. Before I gave up on humans altogether, I figured out there were heroes and good people on every corner, if you gave them the opportunity.

Sometimes I think that each human should have been born like me. I was physically born a long time ago. In a little country in what is now Russia, to a woman who made bread and a man who made pottery. I had an older brother who wanted to be a farmer like our grandfather, but ended up dying of a fever the winter before I was ten. I can't even remember their names now. But I still remember the smell of yeast and the sound of the pottery wheel. I remember my brother's wheezing lungs in the days before his body just gave up. I remember those things like I was there yesterday. But I don't consider that to be when I was born.

I'm sure D'Hoffryn, my former patron, thinks it was when I was made human, when my amulet was destroyed. When I was reverted to a human body with human worries and needs and desires. The technical explanation for being born. But he'd be wrong too.

If you asked someone close to me now, they'd probably say I was born when I met Xander. When I fell into his chocolate eyes and finally understood the true depth of emotions some of the women who called upon me must have felt at one time with their men. But that's not right either.

I was born when I heard Joyce died. When Xander turned to me and told me the news. That's when I first felt the sadness crush the weight of my soul. That's when I knew I was human when I was able to grieve. When I was able to feel the loss of someone I knew in my heart and be sad as I realized she was gone and never coming back. That's when I was born. That's when I finally understood all the frailty it takes to be human. Because no matter how strong people are, or how unaffected they seem, it's always the weaknesses that makes them human. It's the caring through anything, the feelings and the thoughts that make people human. Humans are imperfect, impetuous, caring, and full of feelings they can't control. Everyone should have that thunderclap of awareness when they're born that I had. The awareness that makes them cherish every moment, even the bad ones, because you never know when it'll all end for you.

When Joyce died was also when I first understood how loneliness can consume you. I knew Joyce well enough to call her out of the blue or to drop in or to know that she liked honey in her tea, but I wasn't family. So, I was a bit removed from the loneliness that consumed Dawn and Buffy. Although they still had each other, they missed *her* presence in their lives, and they were left with a hole that only Joyce could have filled.

I watched Buffy plan and attend the funeral. I watched as she made sure Dawn would be able to stay with her. As she quit school and tried to heal. I watched as she kept slaying, kept covering up the hole in her heart, until it wasn't any smaller, but it was well hidden enough that strangers wouldn't see it. I watched as the loneliness took over, hunching her shoulders a little. Making her sniffle when she thought she was alone in a room.

Making her miss her Mom.

Buffy laughed for the first time nineteen days after Joyce died. I wonder sometimes if anyone else kept track. Spike got some gum caught on his boot and he was sticking to every carpet in the shop until Giles kicked him out, and as Spike left, he tripped a little. He didn't fall, and made a spectacular recovery involving flailing arms and teetering balance that ended with him narrowly missing staking himself on Mr. Edward's wall-mounted flagpole outside the store next door. And Buffy laughed. Just a little laugh, and I could tell she felt guilty right after by the little tears in her eyes, but I was glad to hear her sound happy again. Even if it was for only a few seconds.

You can be surrounded by people who love you, and still be lonely. I didn't understand that at first, but the more I watched, the more I saw it in Buffy. I read a lot from the slayer journals Giles keeps upstairs in those few weeks after Joyce died. And the theme through all the Slayers was the same. Slay alone, fight alone, die alone. It's a lonely existence, and, until Buffy, was the rule. But Buffy had friends, and that's what saved her from the overwhelming feeling of being *alone* after those first weeks, I think. Her friends and Dawn. After a month, she began to smile more. She began to call us instead of us always calling her. She became more vigilant in guarding Dawn from Glory. And her shoulders straightened a little. I could see the loneliness creep away in the daylight as she spent time with us.

The loneliness is back now. And blacker than ever.

Buffy died forty-three days ago.

Xander still has trouble even smiling. Willow sniffles like Buffy did all the time. Giles can't remember anything for more than two minutes, and then he'll clear his throat and wipe his misty eyes. Dawn walks around with her arms wrapped around herself all the time. There's too much loneliness here for just me to help with, but I try.

But the part that bothers me most is that Xander isn't Xander anymore. There's a spot in his heart that's closed now. I hate that there's a part of Xander that I can't reach. There's a place in his heart that belongs to Buffy's memory, and that part is still holding court over the rest of him. He still gets up every morning and does his job, and then his Scooby duty, but the little light behind his eyes is a bit dimmer. His steps are a bit slower. He doesn't care about the world as much as he used to. Because he misses her. He misses talking to her, joking with her, teasing her and standing beside her in the good fight. She's left a Buffy-sized hole that I can't fill.

So I make sure every night that I hold him tight and tell him I love him. I try to send a spark back into his soul. I don't know if it's futile yet or not, but I want to chase the loneliness away. I know Tara does the same for Willow, but we haven't made the breakthrough yet. It's a big job. We loved and miss Buffy too, but she wasn't as big a part of our lives. Our holes are manageable.

Sometimes I think I'm close. Xander will look up and his eyes will get the little half moons under them like he's going to smile, but then he seems to remember that he's missing Buffy, and it all stops. It's been so long since I've seen him grin that I almost forget what it looks like. But as long as I remember, I'll keep trying. I can't give up. Not only is this something I want, but I'm pretty sure that Buffy would miss Xander's smile too. She'd be very upset over how everyone's closed down now, I think.

Giles is still keenly feeling the loss of a daughter who wasn't born to him, but rather chosen. The fabled Chosen One that brought joy to his life in ways he never imagined as a Watcher. They chose to be each other's family, and in ways that's more precious than being born into one. He misses her too. Every time the little bell over the door rings, he looks up, and he looks so hopeful for just a second that it breaks my heart when his face falls every time he's disappointed. He knows she's not coming back, but his heart doesn't believe it yet. Buffy was too good. She cheated death and won so many times that now that it's real, none of us can believe it.

Sometimes now, when Giles and I are at the store, and there's no customers, I try to get him to talk about her. I ask questions about how they met and the battles they went through, but he usually changes the subject pretty fast. Then he gives me more work to do so I won't have the chance to ask again. I understand that he's still hurting, but I wish he'd let me in, just a little.

It's all enough to make a former demon go to desperate measures. I've searched through spell books and tomes looking for a way to lessen everyone's pain, and yesterday, I found a way. I hope.

Everyone comes by the store every evening now. To get assignments for slay duty or just to hang out together pretending that as a group we're not as lonely as we really are. I'm sitting beside Xander, and he's not really paying attention to anything Tara is saying, but Willow is busy drawing runes on her stones with charcoal, and Giles is closing out the register, so they haven't noticed. Spike is working at getting drunk, like he does every night, and Tara continues telling her joke, and when she gets to the part with the clown and the duck, I laugh. Because it's funny. Spike roars with laughter with me, and makes some comment about the clown deserving his fate. Willow looks up in surprise after it's all over and offers a weak smile. Xander still doesn't react at all, and Giles looks horrified with what the clown did with the duck.

"That's it for me, kids," Spike announces. "Got my bad joke for the night, and now I'm off to kill some night-time ghoulies."

"Don't forget to torture them with the joke before you stake them," I say, smiling as he catches my eyes as he makes his way to the door. "It's not like you can use real torture anymore, Chip-boy."

He points an unsteady finger at me. "Xander is a bad influence on you."

I smile innocently and watch as he purposely flaps his duster as he spins away from me. He's such a Drama Queen.

It's all over in about three seconds.

Spike catches his boot on the wood I surreptitiously nailed to the doorway earlier, and as he flails about, I watch everyone else, waiting. Spike finally lands in a heap just outside the doorway, narrowly missing Mr. Edward's flagpole again. He sits up in stunned silence and finally utters, "Bloody hell!" before grasping what dignity he has left and stalking into the night.

I'm still waiting.

Everyone is staring at the doorway, watching Spike disappear down the street, exhibiting no sign of the ruckus he's just survived. But no one is saying anything. I hold my breath, waiting for Giles to come down on me for putting a hazard in the door that could potentially harm customers, but it's all still eerily quiet.

Then Willow looks up at Xander, and the two of them smile strangely. "Do you remember how Buffy laughed when Spike did that the last time?" She asks breathlessly.

Xander actually chuckles, and I see the spark shoot up to his eyes. "Yeah. She had a great laugh." I'm awestruck at his smile all over again. I can feel the tears rush to my eyes, and I insanely grin at all of them.

Giles steps forward and a ghost of a smile crosses his face. "She had a wonderful sense of humor."

And then they begin talking about Buffy. Really talking. Remembering what she liked and why. Who she loved and who she touched. Remembering why they loved her so much that when she left them it was unbearable.

My heart is zooming a little in my chest, and my eyes are still filled up with happy tears. Tara catches my gaze and we share a hopeful look. Maybe now we can push some of the loneliness away by remembering Buffy together. Because the Buffy-holes aren't ever going to get smaller, but they can be filled up with her again and again by sharing her with each other. That's what fighting loneliness is about. Getting filled up when you're empty.

It was forty-three days before Xander, Willow and Giles laughed after Buffy died.

The important part is that they laughed.

Buffy would have liked that, I think. I'm sure, that wherever she is, the sound of their laughter might make her happy for a moment.

Maybe it's taking some of her loneliness away.

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