//oligodendroglioma//

I don't even know what that means.

//One in three patients with this condition does just fine.//

Those aren't the kind of odds I'm used to. What's so frustrating is that this isn't something or someone I can fight. There isn't some Big Bad in a black hat, or some demon I can stop from escaping into the Hellmouth, who goes down with a well-aimed fist or a kick to the head. This is my mother's life- it's possible end and the helpless feeling of pure terror I feel when I think about my life without her.

I need her.

I need my mother.

I never thought I would hear myself say that. I've grown up fast, having the weight of being 'The Slayer' bearing down on me, being responsible for everyone in this town and living this superhero destiny. In every generation there is only one�

I've always thought of myself as tough. Plus, as a teenager, like everyone else, my mother was an embarrassment. No, not really an embarrassment-but I was *sure* she couldn't understand the problems I faced. She probably couldn't have, but she was *there* she wanted to listen, to offer mom advice and sympathy: That sounds so hard�you've got a good head on your shoulders�I'm proud of you�I love you.

Not like any of those words would have solved anything, not by themselves, but they make you feel better. They make you able to close your eyes at night or punch something and say to yourself-'yeah, it's not fucking fair.' But for so long, I never let her in, tried to spare her or exclude her- I don't know. Now, I don't know what I'll do if�

I haven't even talked to Riley about it. Oh, we've skimmed the surface, but I haven't opened up to anyone, not even him though I know that he'd understand and listen and be supportive. That's what he is, that's what he does.

He's always full of quiet grace, calming and soothing. I see that so clearly at the hospital when he takes care of everyone: my mom, Dawn, me. He's so solicitous. Solicitous, ha, that's a word I heard Giles use and it really does describe Riley. So why can't I talk to him?

I'm just so tired of walking around feeling like a moist, open wound. I'm always: flowing tears, wet, snuffling mucus, rubbery legs that can't support me, but it's all hidden under a layer of resolve and strength that I can't seem to put aside. Slayer pride?

There are tests with names I can't remember, results I don't understand and medications that make mom sick until she's puking all the time. The light hurts her eyes, she can barely move and she wants me to hold her hand because she can't stand me touching her anywhere else. I just sit and stare at her because I don't know what else to do. I don't know how to help her. Dawn is always asking me, 'Is she going to make it?'

I want to scream at her - I don't know.

I don't know what I'll do if she dies.

Why do I find it so hard to confide in my friends�in Giles�even in my own sister? Why do I find myself spilling my guts to Spike, who used to be my enemy and now is even more of a stranger to me since he's 'harmless'? We have nothing in common�I don't know the first thing about what makes him tick, what the hell he's even thinking. I just opened my mouth and everything came pouring out and the tears wouldn't stop.

"Come here Pet."

His strong hand around the back of my neck, tickling the hair at my nape, where the tender part meets the hard part of my skull. He exerts enough pressure to pull me close and I give in, press my face against his chest and allow him to hold me.

"I don't know what I'll do if she dies."

"Shhh, luv."