I just nod.

"Is everything okay?" she asks with obvious concern.

Apart from falling in love, being used and getting dumped not once but twice so far this semester? Apart from not having a clue what's going on in half my classes and wondering how long it'll take before they kick me out? Apart from the nightmares that haunt me? Apart from this inexplicable sadness that clings to me like a shadow? No, nothing's wrong.

I nod. "Everything's fine."

She reaches out to stroke my hair. It's been years since she did that. It makes me feel like a child again. "You sure?" she persists, but gently. Everything about her is gentle, but beautiful. I've always thought that.

"College sucks." The words slip out before I realise, and I feel about ten years old. I'm meant to be an adult now, I'm meant to be in some way mature, and I feel like I've failed.

"No kidding," she says. "How bad is it?"

"Completely sucky. It's like . . . like everything that could go wrong has gone wrong."

We sit down, her still stroking my hair. It's soothing, comforting.

"Talking about it might help," she suggests. Still gently. Always gently.

"I - " I don't know where to begin. And I'm scared she'll think I'm just a stupid kid overreacting to life in the real world.

"When you're ready," she continues.

I smile at her.

"Buffy's at the store," she says, changing the subject. "She's freaking out over dinner. As usual."

"Surprise, surprise," I comment.

She brushes stray strands of hair out of my face, her fingers tracing the outline. Her touch is light and soft on my skin.

"She's been worrying about you at college," Tara adds.

"Again, surprise, surprise. She doesn't think I can cope on my own," I say. "Okay, I probably can't" - Tara smiles - "but I'll figure it out eventually. It's not like her first year of college was a bundle of laughs."

"True," she nods.

"What's been happening with you?" I ask.

"Not much," she shrugs. "Nothing's happened since you left. Job's the same. Part-time occupation" - her name for helping Buffy using her magic - "going okay."

"Love life?" I enquire with a grin. The area she always leaves out.

She rolls her eyes. "Uneventful."

"No new love interest, then?"

She shakes her head.

Weirdly disappointed and aching for more information, I stand up abruptly.

"Dawn? Are you okay?" she calls after me as I head upstairs.

I don't know. God, I don't know anything anymore.

I remember learning something in Psych class about minimizing the importance of something. Like, oh, I don't know. I once read about this girl who was anorexic, and when she went to therapy, after months and months of talking, she mentioned something about her grandfather. He had sexually abused her when she was twelve. It was shortly after that when she stopped eating, as a way of regaining the control that he'd taken away from her. But she didn't realise this. She'd blocked it out. It wasn't that she couldn't remember what had happened, but she didn't think it was important, or particularly traumatic.

This summer Tara had a new girlfriend. I wasn't jealous of Crystal, not in that way. It was just that I was so used to having Tara to myself, to hanging around with her all the time, that I resented having to share her.

At least that was what I told myself.

It's just hit me that it was then that all the horribleness started. The first nightmare came in August. Not in college. I told myself it was anxiety over getting ready to leave home.

Nothing to do with being dragged further away from Tara.

Of course I can't be attracted to her, it's ridiculous. What am I even doing following this train of thought, anyway? I'm just not going to think about it.

"Dawn?" She knocks on my door. "What's up?"

I don't answer. I don't know what to say.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure."

She pushes open the door with those gentle hands.

"College stuff, huh?"

"I guess. Everything's been kinda weird lately." Particularly in the last ten minutes or so. Or, really, in the last few months.

"I broke up with Crystal the week after you left," she says softly.

"Why?"

A weird sense of happiness engulfs me, even though it shouldn't.

She shrugs. "I, um, I was just - I don't know, depressed that you weren't around. She took it the wrong way."

"You mean she was jealous?" I try to make it sound jokey. "Of me?"

She smiles. "Yeah."

"That's pretty dumb."

She pauses. Then another, "Yeah." But not sounding so convinced.

"I'm home!" Buffy announces from downstairs, the front door slamming shut behind her.

Without saying another word, both Tara and I descend the stairs.

"So, Dawn, how's college life going for ya?" Xander asks me.

"It's . . . interesting." Not a lie.

"Any new boys on the scene?" Willow grins.

Funny that it should be her asking me that. "No, not really," I say breezily. Although I am thinking of screwing your ex-girlfriend, now that you mention it.

Am I? I ask myself, surprised. No. That was just something I said in my head to sound flippant, not something I actually intend on doing. Not something that I want to do. Because, you know, I'm not interested. Being straight and all.

Tara is staring down at her food. When she looks up, I meet her eyes. She holds my gaze for a few moments before we both look away. My face heats up, sure that everyone at the table has noticed.

"So, what's new in Sunnydale?" I ask the table at large, careful not to meet anyone's eyes.

Why was I so upset when Danny broke up with me? Was it because I was devastated at him leaving me, or because it was another failure at normality? Normal college girls had boyfriends and were attracted to them and enjoyed sex. I wanted to. I just didn't. I figured it was because I hadn't met the right person yet, or it was something Key-related. Some residual big-blob-of-energy thing that was preventing me from reacting to things the way normal people did.

Ditto with Jon. I didn't even think he was that cute. I mean, I could see that he was meant to be cute. I knew that others thought he was. He just didn't do anything for me. He wasn't my type, I told myself.

Why was my lack of being able to keep up in my classes so upsetting? I'd fallen behind before. In high school I'd always managed to catch up and end up doing well. But I panicked that this time I wouldn't be able to, and that I'd be letting her down. That she'd be disappointed in me. That she'd think less of me.

Tara.

She was always there in the back of my mind. I was always trying to - to - to what? To impress her?

To make her proud of me. To prove to her that I was a grown up. To make her see me as an equal.

To show her that I wasn't just some stupid little kid with a -

With a crush on her.

Damn.

"I think I might explode," she says as we relax in front of the TV after dinner. The others are inclined to agree. Xander pats his stomach, which has been growing flabbier and flabbier every year. I got over my crush on him when I was fifteen and saw him bare-chested. He hasn't exactly aged well. Twenty-four and already chubby.

I look over at her. Dark blonde hair, long and luxurious, falling over her shoulders. The top button of her blouse is unbuttoned, revealing golden skin that I somehow know is as soft as her fingertips. She's looking at the TV but her mind is elsewhere; she's daydreaming. The contented expression on her face makes me ache with sadness.

She's so beautiful that it hurts.

I've always known she was pretty, but now I'm really looking at her. I've never had a reason to scrutinise her like now. At least, I never allowed myself to have a reason.

I yawn. I want to stay down here, with everyone, with her, but the truth is I really am exhausted.

"I'm gonna go upstairs for a while," I announce.

She looks over at me. For the second time today we stare at each other in what may or may not be understanding. The others have to know. How can they not?

Lying in bed. Alone. Thoughts swirl around in my head.

No matter how much I want to pretend it's not true, I can't escape the fact that what I feel for Tara goes beyond friendship.

And I'm still so scared. Scared of what everyone else will say. How unoriginal but true. I'm scared that they'll think she's "corrupted" me, or that I'm just a child who can't make up her mind, or that, despite the tolerance and smiling faces, they'll secretly think I'm a freak. I'm scared Buffy will hate me for it.

Is that the only reason I'm scared? Yes, of course it is, I tell myself.

It's got nothing to do with the nightmares.

When I wake up from the terror, sweating and crying and panicking and flailing, she's there.

She soothes me with her seemingly magical touch. Maybe it is. "Bad dream?"

I nod.

"Want to talk about it?"

"It was - it was awful."

"What happened?"

"Glory - she - "

"Glory's gone," she reminds me gently. "She's been dead for years."

"I know, I know. But in the dreams - it's like she's here, and she's doing it all over again."

"Dreams?"

"Nearly every night. She's here, and she does it again, over and over again."

"What does she do? Does she hurt you?" Tara's concerned.

I shake my head. "Not me. Not me. You. And she makes me watch, and there's nothing I can do to stop her, and it's all my fault . . ."

All she can do is hold me. But as she rocks me - gently, so gently - I start to piece it all together. Guilt. The emotion that's haunted me for years. I blamed myself for what Glory did to Tara. I don't want that to happen again. I don't want anyone to be hurt because of me - especially not her.

Figuring it out doesn't make it all go away, but it helps a little. I reach out and touch her hair - as silky as I imagined. Her skin as soft as I thought.

"Dawn?" She moves back slightly. "What -"

Everything freezes for a moment as our eyes lock once more. Tentatively, I extend my hand once more, running my fingertips along the side of her face, and then brushing them over her lips.

Slowly she licks her lips, nervously, moistening them. Her face moves closer to mine. My lips somehow connect with hers. We're kissing.

I've kissed people before but it's never been like this. There's never been the amazing sense of love and trust that there is right now; the feeling that this is the perfect way to be.

Somehow it seems to make up for everything else - the pain, the guilt, the secrecy. Maybe I can work through it. I want to, so badly - anything to be with her. When it feels this right, anything's possible. The world is my oyster. And my world is Tara.