The third time he collapses clutching his head, blood pouring from his nose, she considers what it would be like if he died.
Mostly, she's pretty sure he won't. Not while he still owes her. Not while she still needs him.
She'll find a way to get the chip out and save him. She's Buffy. It's what she does.
But the part of her that's exhausted by its duty of care (not just for him), that's near the end of its tether, that's so over the endless, endless drama, can't help having just a tiny little spring in its step.