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She's out of breath, but keeps running. Dry leaves make crunchy noises under her feet, low hanging branches scratch her face and tear at her hair, but she doesn't feel it.
There are tears in her eyes, and the moment she wipes them away there's a small fallen tree hidden under the leaves ... she doesn't see it and stumbles, falls down hard.
But instead of getting up, Buffy stays down. Her body hurts, her fingers tremble ... but after a few moments she's able to relax and collect her thoughts.
There's no sound except for her breathing; thank goodness. She sits up slowly and inhales deeply, concentrates on her surroundings.
She's alone. She's safe for the moment. It's okay.
She shakes off her jacket and inspects her shirt; it's torn beyond repair, she can see her bruised skin, but at least her bra is still intact. Her backpack is gone, still in that shack. Her lips start to tremble again at the thought of having to return. Does she have to?
Logic kicks in, and she's thankful for the reasoning voice inside her head: Why shouldn't you go back? They're dead. They're all dead. You killed them.
"I killed them. I killed those men," she says softly, almost inaudible under her breath.
Yes. And they deserved it. Imagine what they would've done to you.
"I don't want to imagine."
Fine, then don't. But get over it. Killing is now something you have to do on a daily basis.
"Yes, you're right."
She sighs deeply; talking to herself like this helps.
Buffy puts her jacket back on and takes the stake that fell out of her sleeve, looks at it. It's the first time actual blood covers the wood, dark and red. And thinking back, it didn't feel any different than staking a vampire. Well, except of course the body doesn't turn to dust once it's killed.
She remembers when Faith staked a man by accident, how shocked she herself was and how the other Slayer didn't seem to care much. And now Buffy understands, in a strange way.
Actually, the voice chimes in again, it's good to know that we're capable of killing everything with a stake: vampires, zombies, and people. If there's one thing we'll always have enough of, it's wood.
Buffy smiles. "Yes, that's actually a reassuring thought."
And with that she tightens her grip around the stake, gets up and starts looking for a place to sleep; tomorrow she'll get her backpack back, and maybe find some other useful things the men left her.