Aftermath
Chapter One: Reduced To This

Author's Note: This story was originally four one-shots, but I had grouped them under the title "The Aftermath Series". But I decided to group them under one title to make it easier to read them all in one place.

The poem Giles reads is Funeral Blues by W.H. Auden.

"… The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood,
For nothing now can ever come to any good."

Giles's voice was a low rasp, jumping up shrilly every now and again. Dawn watched him stare at the paper for a moment, as though trying to find something else to say. She wondered vaguely whether anyone else heard the chilling prophecy in that poem. Of course, she knew it right from the beginning. From the moment she saw in her sister's eyes what she was going to do; Dawn knew that nothing would ever come to any good ever, ever again.

She felt Tara move, pull Willow closer. But she didn't look. Dawn hadn't taken her eyes off the grave since they got here and she didn't intend to until the grave was filled in. Until her sister was gone.

She saw Giles sigh, tuck the paper away and reach for the shovel, quickly followed by Xander and Wesley. Her eyes blurred with tears and she blinked them away quickly. Strong. Strong, strong, strong. That's what she had to be. It's what Buffy would have wanted.

The metallic scrape of the shovels through the pile of earth, the hollow scattering sound of the earth hitting the wooden coffin made her shudder as it echoed through the chilly early evening air.

She felt Tara's hand tighten on her arm to steer her away, but she refused to move.

"Dawnie," she heard Tara whisper, but she ignored her.

She heard Willow's teary attempt, but ignored that too. She pulled away from Tara and walked toward the foot of the grave.

"Wait," she called weakly, extending her hand. She forced herself to open the fist that clutched the single white rose. She stared at it for a second, then at the tiny scratches the thorns had made in her palm. Then with a flick of her wrist, she tossed it into the grave.

She watched it fly through the air and drop like a stone onto the coffin. Tara came up behind her, taking her hand.

"I'm staying," Dawn whispered, as the sun set and sky exploded into a sunset so beautiful, it made her want to cry.

The Summers' house was cold and dark when Willow opened the door and ushered everyone inside, before running around, turning on lights and lighting candles. Dawn sank onto the couch with Anya. Wesley and Cordelia hovered until Tara smiled and indicated the couch. Willow lit the final candle on the mantelpiece and dithered for a second before Tara guided her to a chair. Giles remained standing, hands in his pockets.

"It was only four feet," Xander muttered. Then he glanced up at Giles and continued. "Only four feet, Giles. It should have been six. We should have tried harder. It wasn't enough. We should've tried harder, Giles," his voice grew shrill as he followed Giles across the living room. "It wasn't enough. We should've done the six. We should've tried harder and done the six! We should -"

"It's too late!" Giles thundered, spinning round and fisting his hands into Xander's jacket, almost yanking him off his feet. "Do you hear me? It's too late! It wasn't enough! It's over! She's gone!" his voice faltered and he lowered Xander, hands relaxing their grip slightly, as though this fact had suddenly registered with him. "She's gone."

Xander stared at Giles, his eyes steadily filling with tears as he shook his head slowly.

"No," he whispered.

His head dropped and Giles pulled him close. The others watched from their seats, staring in numb, shocked silence as the two men sobbed against each other.

Cordelia gulped hard and snaked her arm through Wesley's. He looked up slowly from where he had been staring at his lap in an attempt to avoid the scene in front of him. He raised his eyebrows in question.

"We should go," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Now."

He opened his mouth to answer when he glanced at Giles and Xander. They had stopped crying, but were still clinging together. He closed his mouth and nodded, standing up slowly.

"I'm afraid we ought to be getting back," he said in a low voice to Willow.

"You're going?" she said. "You don't have to. You could stay again. I know the couch isn't very comfortable, but you don't have to go."

"Really, we need to get back to the office," Cordy said.

Willow nodded and stood up, embracing Cordy, then Wesley. Cordy bent down in front of Dawn and placed her hands on her knees.

"We're gonna go now, ok, sweetie?" she said gently.

Dawn nodded and Cordy gave her a quick, awkward hug. Wesley hesitated before reaching down to squeeze Dawn's shoulders.

"You'll be all right," he said bracingly. "You're strong."

Dawn gulped and shrugged and Wesley allowed Cordy to drag him out the door and down to the car. She practically ran down the driveway, with Wes stumbling after her.

"Cordelia!"

She came to a halt, leaning against the car, breathing hard.

"God, I had to get outta there," she murmured. "I couldn't bear it."

"I know," he agreed. "It was awful."

"Angel should have been there," Cordy said firmly. "He should have been there."

"He'll be here, Cordy. You can be sure of that."

"I'm not sure of anything anymore, Wes," she whispered, turning to him. "I know she was the Slayer and I know we didn't always get on. But she was Buffy. I just never thought she… I never thought this would happen."

"I doubt anybody thought it would," he sighed, then, seeing her sniffling, he reached for her. "Come here."

She hugged him tightly, face buried tightly in his neck. He rubbed her back and kissed her hair before she took a deep breath, regained her composure and stepped back.

"We should get back," she said. "We need to check on Angel."

They climbed into the car and drove in silence. It wasn't until they reached Main Street that Wesley broke the silence.

"I don't think that will be necessary," he said, indicating a familiar black car up ahead that turned in the direction of the cemetery.

Willow closed the door on Giles a little while later and glanced back into the living room at Xander and Anya. Dawn was curled in a chair across from them, eyes wide and unblinking. Willow's hands shook violently as she attempted to bolt the door, with a gentle hush; Tara placed her hands gently over Willow's and pulled them away from the door.

Willow sagged with a tiny sob and Tara tightened her grip with one hand while the other tucked a strand of hair behind Willow's ear.

"Come on," she whispered. "I'll take you bed."

Willow didn't argue and Tara guided her to the stairs where Willow froze and shook her head.

"No, I'll stay with Dawnie," she said.

"You need to sleep, Willow."

"No," Willow shook her head again and pulled her hands out of Tara's.

"Sweetie, you have to sleep," Tara said gently.

"I can't," Willow choked out, clutching suddenly at Tara's shirt. "I can't go to sleep, Tara. I can't sleep. And when I do, all I can see…" Willow swallowed hard, "is her. I see her jumping, I see her hanging there, with all this energy tearing at her, I see her hitting the ground. I hear that crunch, that revolting, wet crunch. And then all I can see is her lying there. It wasn't Buffy anymore, Tara. It was just a body. She was my best friend, I loved her so much and she just wasn't there anymore."

Tara gulped hard, trying to force down the tears that her girlfriend's tearful speech brought to her throat. She reached out and grabbed hold of Willow, pulling her tightly into her arms and buried her face in Willow's neck. It was as much an attempt to comfort Willow as to hold herself up.

When she pulled away from Willow, she kissed her gently on the lips and smoothed her tears away with her thumbs.

"I'll take you to bed, sweetie," she said gently, pressing her toward the stairs. "And I'll make you some lavender tea, all right?"

"What about Xander and Anya?" Willow sniffled.

"I'll take care of them and Dawn. Just like I'm going to take care of you. Go on," she let go of Willow's hand and Willow slowly climbed the stairs.

Tara went back into the living room and Xander looked up.

"Willow went to bed," Tara told him.

"Can you stay here tonight?" Dawn whispered suddenly, sitting up and looking at Xander and Anya. "All of you?"

"Whatever you want," Anya replied gently, with surprising tenderness as she reached across and patted Dawn's hand.

It was late by the time Tara had made up the couch for Xander and Anya. It had taken a while for Xander to get the hint that he needed to go to sleep and it had taken longer to convince Dawn to go to bed.

Dawn heard the distant creak of her mother's bed, where Tara and Willow where spending the night. Then she heard the faint click of the lamp by the bed and knew that Tara had turned out the light and was at that moment spooning herself around Willow.

Dawn shivered. There was no one to spoon themselves around her, no one to tell her it was all right. No one she would believe anyway.

Her room was stiflingly warm and she slid out of bed to open to the door. She could hear blurred voices floating up the stairs and froze when she realized it was Anya comforting a crying Xander. She shut the door quickly and leaned against it, breathing hard. Of course she had seen Xander cry, she had seen it that evening as he sobbed into Giles's jacket.

Dawn's world had turned on its head. All these people that she thought were so tough, such a strong unit, were crumbling around her. Dissolving slowly into tears and it was all Dawn's fault.

They never said it, of course they didn't. But she knew. She could see it in the way they turned their gaze away whenever she looked at them for longer than a few seconds. They were trying so hard not to hate her for this.

At times, that made her love them even more and at other times, it made her hate them because she deserved their loathing. She killed her sister; she was responsible for almost ending the world.

All of that for someone who didn't even exist.

She gasped for breath, almost drowning in the horror of her own situation and that aching sense of loss where her family used to be - her father, her mother, her sister. They were all gone and all she had left was a group of people she wasn't even related to, who wish she had died instead of the Slayer.

Dawn staggered to the window and threw it open, sticking her head out to suck in deep breaths of cool night air. Her breathing calmed and she leaned out further, feeling the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck rise as she shivered.

She was about to turn back into her room and crawl into bed again when she saw him.

At first, she thought it was Spike, the figure was standing under the same tree Spike spent so long under, but it didn't take Dawn long to realise she was wrong.

The broad shoulders, heavy muscular build, shoulders hunched with the weight of the world. No, it wasn't Spike.

It was Angel.

She stared at him for a long moment, remembering those fearful few months when he became Angelus and she would see him outside, watching her sister's window.

He had looked at her once, she had been watching him from her window when suddenly, his head had turned sharply and he pinned her with his gaze. She knew then that he was evil, because when he met her eyes, the cold look terrified her and took her breath away as it pushed her away from her window.

There was no such look on his face now; neither was he looking at her sister's room. Instead, he was looking at her, at Dawn. His expression was soft, pitying and sad.

It made Dawn seethe.

Suddenly, with astonishing clarity, Dawn knew it was all his fault. Dawn realised that he could have helped if he'd been there. He could have saved her sister.

Angel saw the look on her face. It was the look he had been dreading. After Spike suggested he go see Dawn, Angel couldn't get it out of his head. But he couldn't face accusation in those blue eyes, so he chose to watch her window, train his senses on finding out if she was sleeping peacefully. When she came to the window, he thought she wouldn't see him and when she did, he was relieved that her expression was blank.

But after a moment, her face became livid with anger, accusation and aching loss. It pinned Angel in his place, pressed him back into the tree and kept him there, under the full force of a fourteen-year-old girl who was completely alone.

Then she was gone and he remained in place, gripping the tree and staring at the ground as he tried to regain his composure.

He must have stood there for a long time because he heard the front door open and then heard the pattering of bare feet.

He looked up and Dawn stood there, looking impossibly young and vulnerable with her long brown hair loose over her shoulders, dressed in faded pyjamas. She watched him for a moment, then walked forward and stood on the porch step.

He came toward her and she extended her hand, pressing something tiny into his palm. She cupped her hand around his, leaned forward and kissed his cheek, then gave him a tiny sad smile as she went back into the house.

Angel stepped away from the porch and craned his neck back and stood listening until he was sure Dawn was in bed. Only then did he open his hand and look at what she had given him.

Buffy's claddagh ring sparkled in the moonlight.