Buffy hung up the phone, wondering to herself if turning down Ben’s offer for a date had been the wrong decision when Xander announced he was finished repairing the damaged window that April, Warren’s sexbot, had caused in her search for her owner.

“We still on for infomercials and possibly a little necking on the couch?” he asked.

She cocked an eyebrow. “I was about to tell you I thought I’d call it a night, seeing as it’s almost morning, but I’ll upgrade that from a maybe later to an emphatic ‘I gotta go.’”

He looked crestfallen. “Aw! Come on! You, me, the Home Shopping Network? It can’t miss!”

She grinned and shook her head. “I’m sorta beat. This whole day’s been a little freaky.”

“And yet, oddly light as Hellmouth days go.”

*FLASH!*

She opened the door and walked inside, setting down her bag. “Hey mom!” she called out.

Turning she saw a bouquet of flowers and smiled to herself, moving to them to read the card.

‘Thank you for a lovely evening. See you soon (?) – Brian,’ she read and managed a small, half-sad smile. “Still a coupla guys getting it right.”

Hanging up her jacket she turned back to the stairs. “Hey. Flower-gettin' lady! Want to do some shopping before we pick up Dawn from school?”

Joyce walked in from the kitchen, drying her hands on a dishtowel. “Oh, hi honey. Did you see? The flowers? The flowers from a man? The flowers I didn’t have to send myself?”

Buffy grinned. “Gifts from the FTD fairy are always a bonus,” she agreed. “Guess I’ll be meeting…and sizing up…this Brian pretty soon, huh? You should tell him that the quickest way to my heart is with jewelry.”

Joyce smiled and nodded. “Naturally. I made sure to mention your dress and shoe sizes last night as well.”

Buffy followed her mother back into the kitchen. “Whatcha doin’? You haven’t even changed out of your gallery clothes yet,” she asked, settling onto a barstool at the island where Joyce was working on a casserole.

“I know…but I wanted to get this out of the way. I might head back to the gallery later. We’re getting a new shipment in of Egyptian artwork.”

Buffy raised an eyebrow. “As long as it’s not Incan mummies or scary possessing-masks.”

“I promise not to bring anything home,” Joyce swore solemnly. “What do you have going on this evening? Dawn could use some help with her homework.”

“Ugh. You do remember me, Buffy, right? Your not scholastically-apt child?” she asked, rolling her eyes and sticking out her tongue.

“You’re not stupid, you just had other things on your mind. I just thought…she looks up to you Buffy. When I’m not around, I need you to look after her.”

“Well, just never leave this house and everything will be fine, won’t it?” she teased and got up. “I’m gonna hit the showers, coach. Back in a bit.”

*FLASH!*

Buffy finished styling her hair and gave herself a nod of approval in the mirror before thundering down the steps. Joyce was in the hallway looking at her flowers again, touching the fine petals with a bemused smile on her face.

“If you look at them real hard and blink your eyes five times, he’ll appear on his white horse,” Buffy teased her mother.

Joyce smiled and turned to her daughter, opening her mouth to speak. Before she could get any words out she closed her eyes again, her face scrunching in pain, and braced herself against the door.

“Mom?” Buffy asked, concerned, and reached out to steady her.

Joyce blinked, then squinted her eyes tight. She made a muffled sound and clutched at Buffy’s arm before sinking to her knees and finally falling completely to the floor.

“Mom!?” Buffy cried. “Mom?!”

She rolled Joyce onto her back. “Mom? Mom?” she repeated, slapping lightly at her mother’s face.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God. Uh…think. Think…think. Uhhhh…mommy, what do I do?!” she practically shouted at the still body. In an instant the words “CPR” sounded in her head. “CPR. Right. Right. Ok. Ok. I can remember this.” She checked to see if her mom was breathing. She wasn’t. She quickly put one hand over the other and centered them on Joyce’s chest, beginning the compressions. Pump pump pump…breathe…breathe…pump pump pump pump pump pump pump…

//Dammit, I hate this oven. It's burnt.//

//No, it's just... blackened. It's Cajun pie.//

//Shall I open another?//

//Do you think we dare?//

//Hey, as long as you two stay off the band candy, I'm cool with anything.//

//You are a demon child.//

//I live to torment you. Is that so wrong?//

//It's a daughter's duty, I suppose...//

She continued the motions for what seemed like hours. The phone rang in the background and she ignored it. Her arms still working she looked around, wildly, and her gaze fell on the flowers. “No,” she whispered. “No. No no no no no no. I’m not losing you. I’m not. I’m not! And he’s not. And Dawn’s not,” she hissed with each compression. “No one. No one loses. No one.”

After a moment Joyce’s chest lifted on its own and her mother let out a rasping breath. Buffy stopped, stunned, staring hopefully. The up and down motion of breathing continued and Buffy closed her eyes for a moment in relief. But only for a moment. Jumping to her feet she ran for the phone and dialed 9-1-1 as she headed back down the hall, dropping to her knees and sliding across the wooden floor until she came to rest at her mother’s side.

“Hello!” Buffy shouted into the phone. “Come. 1630 Revello…near Hadley. Hurry. My mother…she passed out. She wasn’t breathing.”

“Ok, slow down,” came a voice over the other end. “Your mother passed out? She wasn't breathing…you performed CPR?”

Buffy nodded, then realized the person couldn’t see her. “Y-yes. CPR. She’s on the hallway floor. She had a tumor.”

Her language seemed to translate to the operator. “Ok. Good. You did the right thing. Are you with her now?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sending the paramedics. They’ll be there in just a minute. Is your mother still breathing?”

Buffy watched her mother’s chest. “Yes.”

“Are you alone with her?”

“Yes. Dawn’s at school.”

“Ok. I want you to put something under your mother’s head and keep it elevated. Then I want you to call someone and have them come over to your house and stay with you while the paramedics are there. Do you understand? Is there a neighbor or a relative nearby?”

Buffy nodded. “Yes. I’ll call Giles,” she said faintly, sounding much younger than her 21 years and hung up the phone. Dialing again she pressed the phone to her ear. “Giles…” she breathed when he answered. “Can you come? She needs us. You need to sit with me.”

“Buffy?”

“I’m home,” she replied when she spied her jacket hanging next to the door. Dropping the phone to the floor she crossed to it and yanked it down, bundling it into a ball and placing it gently under her mother’s head. She didn’t hear Giles frantic and confused cries from the still-connected phone.

The Slayer sank down on the floor, staring blankly at the pattern on the Oriental rug and held her mother’s hand, worrying the skin between her thumb and fingers.

//I think we're just about ready for pie.//

//And then I'll be pretty much ready for barf!//

//Xander!//

//I'll give you a hand.//

//No, no, barf from eating, 'cause all was good, and too much goodness --//

//I'm taking it as a compliment.//

//Yes, everything was delicious...//

//Yes, I'm going to barf too!//

//Everyone's so sweet.//

Time passed and soon the sound of sirens was heard, perking up her ears. She stood and opened the door, cool breeze lifting her hair, and watched as the ambulance pulled into her driveway. Two men hopped out and ran up her front steps, gear in tow.

“What happened?” one of the asked briskly, kneeling and getting to work.

“She was…fine. Then she was…she sorta hunched over and then she fell. She had surgery,” Buffy stammered. “In her brain,” she said, realizing how stupid that sounded and shaking her head. “I mean…she had brain surgery. For a tumor. They said they got it all. She’s been okay.”

“Please step back,” one of them requested.

“You performed CPR,” the other stated, having been told by the dispatcher. “Good. That was the right thing to do. We’ll take it from here. Is someone coming to get you or do you want to ride in the ambulance with your mom?”

She stared at the man, and the insane thought of how much he looked like Owen Thurman, a guy she’d known briefly in high school, ran through her head. Blinking, realizing he was expecting an answer, she nodded. “Giles…I think. Oh, Giles!” she cried, and picked up the phone, but it was dead. “He hung up,” she said stupidly.

“I’m sure he’ll be here,” the man said kindly, and moved her out of the way while the stretcher was wheeled inside. Joyce was placed on it gently and strapped down, and Buffy noted that the oxygen mask completely hid her mother’s face. “Uh…I…”

“We’ll be another minute, two at the most,” the man told her. “If your friend isn’t here by then, you should come with us.”

As he spoke Giles’ car screeched to a halt in front of Buffy’s house and he burst out onto the lawn. “Buffy!” he shouted, running to the front door. “What’s…Oh my God,” he moaned, his face ashen as he laid eyes on Joyce. “What happened?”

“Are you the husband?” the technician asked, then moved on without waiting for an answer. Neither Giles nor Buffy corrected him. “Based on what she’s told us,” he nodded at Buffy, “It appears she suffered an aneurysm or a stroke. We won’t be able to determine it conclusively until we reach the hospital. We need to get moving, will you be following or riding?”

Giles stared at the man, then realized that Buffy was incapable of answering. “We’ll…uh. Drive. I’ll take her.”

The man nodded and turned the gurney, wheeling Joyce outside.

“My God, Buffy…are you all right?” Giles gasped, taking the Slayer into his arms.

//Do you really think you’re ready, Buffy?//

“Buffy?” Giles prodded.

It was then she noticed he had engulfed her in a hug. “We’ve gotta go,” she said, shakily, pushing him away.

“Yes, yes. I’ll drive…obviously,” he told her and steered her out of the house to his car. “Can you tell me what happened?” he asked as he carefully followed the ambulance.

She stared at the dashboard. “I—I don’t know. I came home, she was fine. Baking. And then…she sorta got all…she fell.”

“She fell?”

“She looked like…pain. Lots of it. In her head. And then she fell,” Buffy told him quietly.

Giles was silent for a moment. “I see,” he murmured. Had she been coherent, his tone would have indicated his doubt and fear. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“She wasn’t breathing.”

He looked over at her and after a moment, nodded. “I’m sure you did what you could. Let the doctors take care of her now.”

He sped up.

*~*~*

They burst through the doors of the emergency room, looking around wildly for where the EMT’s had taken Joyce. Buffy hurried to the counter. A harried looking station nurse glanced up. “Yeah?”

“My mom. They just brought her in. In the ambulance. Where is she?”

The nurse barely looked up before thrusting a clipboard in Buffy’s face. “They’re working on her. The doctor’s will let you know. Fill out these forms. She got insurance?”

Buffy stared at her. “Where is she?” she repeated.

The nurse looked up. “In the back. The doctor’s have it now. Take a seat in the chairs and we’ll let you know something when we do.”

Giles placed a hand on Buffy’s arm and took the clipboard. “Ah, thank you,” he told the nurse and directed Buffy back the waiting area. “Do you wish to alert Dawn now?” he asked as they sat down.

Buffy shook her head. “No. Not until we know something. Not until she’s okay.”

Giles sighed. “Of—of course. Do you have an insurance card?”

She looked down at the purse Giles had had the foresight to grab off the entry hall table as they dashed out of the house. “Um…I’m sure it’s…in here,” she replied lamely and unzipped the purse. The scent of her mother’s favorite perfume wafted up and Buffy had to close her eyes against it. Digging to find her mother’s wallet she opened it and came face to face with a family picture…she, Dawn and her mother from last summer. Happy, tanned, smiling. Pushing past that she flipped to the cardholders and pulled out the insurance information, handing it to Giles.

He took it from her gently and began to fill out the forms.

They waited.

*FLASH!*

“Buffy!” Willow cried, walking quickly through the emergency room and taking a seat next to her best friend. The redhead threw her arms around the Slayer and hugged her tightly as Tara squat in front of her. “Are you okay? How’s your mom? Is she okay?” Willow asked shakily.

Buffy shrugged. “It’s been hours and we still don’t know anything.”

Tara smiled sympathetically. “Giles called us. Xander will be here soon. Do you want us to do anything? Get Dawn? Call your dad?”

“No,” Buffy told them, shaking her head. “No Dawn. Not yet. We—we don’t know anything…and I—I don’t want to…” her eyes filled with tears and she covered her mouth with one hand. Willow’s eyes instantly became wet and she squeezed her friend more tightly as Tara rubbed her knee.

“Shh…it’s okay, Buffy. It’ll be okay,” Willow murmured, looking over the Slayer’s shoulder and meeting Giles’ eyes. He noted her inquiring expression and gave her a sad smile and a shake of the head. He didn’t have high hopes.

“Wh-what happened?” Tara asked kindly after Buffy calmed herself.

She went over the story again, just as Xander walked in to hear it. When she finished he hugged her and took a seat next to Tara. “God, Buff…I’m so sorry. When are the--”

A doctor interrupted him. “Ms. Summers?”

Buffy nodded and stood; the others mimicked her one after the other.

“I’m Dr. Stern. Can I speak with you privately?” he asked, glancing at her companions.

“They’re fine,” she told him, and gripped Xander’s arm, steadying herself.

Dr. Stern nodded. “I’m afraid your mother has suffered an aneurysm,” he told her gravely. Willow gasped. “An aneurysm is when a blood vessel in the brain becomes clogged and then bursts. This was probably a result of the operation she had a while ago…but it was one of the risks, and your mother was aware of this."

Buffy’s body swayed. “But she’s—is she okay?”

He held her eyes for a moment. “She’s alive,” he told her finally, and the entire group sagged with relief. “However…I’m afraid her current state isn’t good.” He took a breath. “Ms. Summers, the oxygen to her brain was cut off. We did what we could to repair the damage to her brain, but the chances of recovery from an aneurysm are very slim.”

“What—what do you mean?” Buffy asked. “You said she’s alive.”

He nodded. “She’s alive because she’s on life-support. Your mother lost the ability to breathe on her own a short time after she arrived here. We have her on life-support. I can’t guarantee that she will ever be able to sustain life on her own.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

Buffy stared at him. “But…she can just be on oxygen forever, right? Wheel that little tank around?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Doctor…ah…” Giles interrupted, and took the man by the elbow, moving them off to the side as the Scoobies led Buffy to the chairs and began to try and comfort their friend. “Perhaps you could explain to me what happened and the next steps…” he murmured.

“Buffy…God…Buffy, I’m so sorry,” Willow sobbed, tears streaming down her face.

Buffy was unable to cry at this point. Rather, she sat, blankly staring at the carpet. “What—what does this mean?” she asked quietly.

“I’m not sure,” Willow admitted.

“It sounds like…” Tara said, hesitantly, “it sounds like your mom’s in a coma, sorta.”

“People come out of comas, right?” the Slayer said hopefully. “I mean, Faith did…even after all those months…she came out and was…good as new. In a crazy-way.”

“Yeah…” Xander told her, but he was unconvinced. Something about the way the doctor has spoken didn’t indicated “coma” in his mind.

Giles rejoined them after a moment. “I’ve spoken with the doctor,” he informed them. “He broke things down to layman’s terms.” He knelt in front of Buffy and his heart broke at the hope in her eyes. “Buffy, your mother, is…for the most part…brain-dead. The oxygen was cut off from her brain for too long…”

“But I performed CPR right away,” Buffy whispered, horrified.

He nodded. “Yes…and that might have saved her life. But the hemorrhaging and the complications from the aneurysm, both before and during surgery, were too much. Her breathing was erratic, even with the forced air, and the blood surrounding her brain…it was too much.”

“What are you saying?” Willow asked, fearfully.

He looked up at her. “The doctor’s don’t have much hope for her recovery. Full or partial. They seem to agree that she will never wake up from this…and she will never be able to come off the life-support. The life-support is not just encouraging her breathing…it’s continuing the beat of her heart.” He paused and looked into Buffy’s eyes, saw the pain there, and fell forward, taking his charge into his arms. “Oh, Buffy. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” he rasped, his emotions taking over.

Buffy stared behind him, blankly. “Um…Dawn,” she said simply, and Willow stepped forward, sniffling still.

“Tara and I can go, if you want? Pick her up from school?”

“I…I should…yeah. You.” Buffy was practically incoherent, but Willow just exchanged a look with Tara before rubbing Buffy’s tense back, then leaving wordlessly with her lover and Xander’s car keys. Buffy didn’t move.

Willow drove Xander’s car to the new Sunnydale High, parking in one of the guest parking spaces. The two witches walked into the school, Tara absently rubbing her hand up and down Willow’s back. They started with the office, and after obtaining Dawn’s classroom number, made their way to the Art room. They looked in through the window at Dawn, who was smiling and laughing at something the boy beside her had said, then took deep breaths before heading for the door to the classroom.

After a short, quiet discussion with Dawn’s teacher, the woman called Dawn to the front of the class. Dawn looked at Tara and Willow warily, seeing ‘tragedy’ written on their faces.

“Hey, guys. What’s up?” she asked, sounding cheerful, despite the doom obvious on their faces. The witches led her into the hallway.

“Dawnie,” Willow started. “Something happened this afternoon.”

“What?” Dawn asked warily.

“Your mom…” Tara started, but Dawn didn’t let her finish.

“Is fine. There’s nothing wrong with her. Right?”

“Dawnie,” Willow said, her heart breaking with her voice.

“No!” Dawn said forcefully. Tara touched her arm comfortingly when Dawn wrapped herself in a hug. Dawn shrunk from the touch, her eyes big and her face pale. “Where’s Buffy? Where’s my mom? Why are you here?”

“Dawnie, your mom’s in the hospital. Buffy wanted us to come…”

“She’s in the hospital? Then she’s okay! Let’s go! We have to get there!”

“Dawn…” Tara tried again. How could they break the news to a 15-year-old girl that her mother might never wake up?

“We have to get there. I’ll just grab my stuff…” Dawn ran off to her locker, rushing, while Willow and Tara exchanged another glance and headed off after her.

*FLASH!*

“Where’s Mom?” Dawn asked, rushing up to Buffy, Xander, Anya and Giles ahead of Willow and Tara.

“She’s in the room,” Giles started, gesturing at the door. Dawn was across the hall in a flash, despite Giles’ efforts to stop her, and skid to a halt as soon as she got through the door.

Joyce was lying in the hospital bed, white as the sheets covering her, her eyes closed. There were tubes entering her mouth and nose, I.V.’s in her hands, an electronic breathing pump, and a heart monitor beeping faintly beside the bed.

“M…Mommy?” Dawn said, her eyes filling with tears. Buffy came up behind her and turned her into a hug, Dawn burying her face in Buffy’s shoulder.

“Shh,” Buffy said, stroking Dawn’s hair while closing her own eyes to the image of their mother lying in the bed, motionless.

Giles moved into the doorway and ushered the girls out. Dawn’s face was streaked with tears.

“What’s wrong with her?” Dawn asked. “What happened? She was okay this morning. Did Glory…?”

“No. She had an…an aneurysm,” Buffy replied, quickly, her voice pitched low.

“But she’s gonna…” Dawn trailed off.

“The doctors have told us that your mother is essentially brain-dead, Dawn. She has little hope of recovery,” Giles informed her gently.

“What?!” Dawn cried, wheeling to face him. “What do you mean, little hope of recovery? She was fine!”

“Dawnie,” Buffy started, trying to calm her sister, but not showing any real emotion herself.

“No! She was fine, and she’s going to be fine!” Dawn cried.

“Dawnie, we have to decide…” Buffy tried again.

“Decide what?” Dawn replied, her voice getting louder.

“The doctors say…that we should decide whether to leave her on life support or…turn it off.”

“Life support?”

“If we take her off, she’ll die,” Buffy said, her voice almost breaking before she got it back under control.

“Then we can’t!” Dawn gasped, tears flowing freely now.

“The doctor said that she’s brain dead, Dawn,” Giles said. “She’s essentially not alive. Her heart is beating, because of the machines, but…”

“No!” Dawn cried, collapsing to the floor, sobbing. “No, you can’t kill my mom!”

Willow fell to the ground with her, her arms around the young girl, while Buffy turned away, eyes wide and wet, her mouth twisting to hold in her tears.