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An hour out of Sunnydale and the shock begins to recede. The enormity of what she's done, of what they've all accomplished begins to finally hit her.
The Hellmouth is no more. It's gone, finished, kablooey, kaput. Just a big hole in the ground.
Just like her house. Those new boots with the buckle at the instep are gone too. Angel's leather jacket along with Spike's lighter. That pencil holder she made for Mother's day in first grade is gone also.
Mr. Gordo. Every photo of her mom. Even her mother's grave.
It's just stuff, she tells herself. Just stuff.