Damon wrinkled his eyebrows when he caught sight of her face. Sure, she was a little rougher looking than what he’d seen in pictures, but this was Buffy. The same Buffy that seemed to loathe him or at least what he was. Part of him was inclined to scoff and walk away, leaving her in her current state and shrug it off as her deserving it. Truthfully, though, he wasn’t so sure she deserved it. He took a seat on the curb with her, a couple feet’s distance between the two of them for safety purposes.
“I’m guessing something other than coming down from a high is the root of all of this. I’m not usually one to offer, but if you need to talk I’ll listen.” For Dawn’s sake, he added silently. He and Buffy’s sister weren’t the closest of friends, but he liked her and wanted to keep her safe. If that meant he had to lend a sympathetic ear to Buffy, he’d do it.
He tilted his head slightly, taking it all in and wondering what exactly she was on other than the blinding grief she seemed to be feeling. Damon was aware that she might need more than a shoulder to cry on. In this state, she might very well have needed the attention only a doctor could provide. Then again, she was a slayer and they were notorious for their rapid healing. Only time would tell.