Disclaimer: The story's mine, Buffy and Crew ain't.

Fear
By: Anya

What am I going to do?

I invited him into our home, into my room! I gave him permission to go where I was forbidden to allow any boy, any male at all, to go.

He was in my bedroom, sitting on MY bed, pouring out his soul, when he had one to pour, that is. Now, the soul containing the demon is gone, but the invitation still stands.

And for all I know, next time, any time he chooses, he can come into my home, and rip my heart out. I've endangered my family; my mother and father are in danger, and I can't even TELL them. They wouldn't believe me, even if I could. Buffy's secret comes first. The Slayer must have her protection too.

Oh. Oh no. I never thought. Buffy.

I've even endangered Buffy, by having invited him in here. She's trying to be so strong, but she's hurting so much. And he can start killing off all her supports, undermining her strength, weakening her when she can't afford to be weak. He could so easily take me out of the equation. He only has to visit me while I'm sleeping, and....

And what the hell can I do to stop him?

Nothing.

What was that prayer? The one Xander used to recite when we had sleepovers as kids? Oh yeah.

The lock to the balcony door is secured, and I'm checking it again. For all the good a locked door does against a vampire. Sighing, I find myself looking up, desperate to rise above all this fear, and I can't help but see a beautiful huge glowing moon. It's so placid, so calm.

And yet, the horrors that will happen beneath her light, it stains the purity of her radiance. There was a rhyme my nana used to teach me, in secret. I was sworn never to tell my Jewish parents, or teachers it. Nana knew a lot of neat things. But that rhyme stands out the most right now.

Once, when I was younger, innocent of the truth of the night, those words would have given me security. I used to whisper them at night, careful to ensure no one heard me say such religious hearsay, and loose the right to visit nana.

Now, I still whisper them, clinging to hope in blind, desperate fear that I will live to see morning.