Note from The Other Tara: This is the intro to a story in progress.
Until You're Here With Me, a Post-Slayer Story
It was Willow who finally broke the vigil before the lifeless body of their friend--and not from lack of emotion. With the exception of Spike (who totally lost it and was shaking and weeping uncontrollably), Willow appeared the most visibly upset. Dawn, kneeling at her sister's side and clutching her quickly cooling hand, was crying too, but she was in such shock and fatigue from the whole ordeal that she could barely manage an audible whimper. Xander was devestated, his attention caught between his injured soon-to-be-wife lying in his arms and the death of one of his closest friends. Tara was similarly torn; as much as Buffy's passing hurt her, so did watching her beloved Willow suffer the loss. If anybody seemed to be in the position of keeping a clear head and being the rock which the whole Scooby gang might turn to to get through this crisis, it would have been Giles. Only the faintest glimmer of a tear shone in his eyes. He reamined very calm. But upon closer inspection it was not a good calm, the sort of calm whose shoulder one could cry on. It was a dead calm, almost completely lackiong in emotion.
So it was up to Willow. She could hear Buffy's words to her before that horrible ritual shattered their lives forever:
You're the strongest of all of us, Willow, don't you see that? You're my big gun.
"Okay. Anya and Dawn are hurt. We've got to go."
She placed a reassuring hand on Spike's trembling shoulder, her psi powers gently calming him.
"C'mon, pull yourself together, Spike. We need to get home. We need you to..."
Someone would have to bring Buffy. Everyone looked from Spike to Buffy to Spike again. It seemed as if a silent decision had been made between the gang to let Spike do the honor of carrying the Slayer. But when the vampire gingerly began the approach Giles suddenly said sharply,
"No. I'll do it. I am her Watcher, it's my responsibility."
Spike's bloodshot eyes flared. Tara, the most empathic of the group, found the tension on top of the grieving unbearable, and quickly offered a solution.
"S-Spike, why don't you carry Dawn? Se's too w-weak to get back on her own..."
Dawn. In all the mourning for Buffy they had forgotten the girl; the girl who was wounded, almost killed, and now without sister or mother. There was still a child to take care of, a child who was, for all intents and purposes, made of the same blood as Buffy; who was almost more like Buffy's own daughter than sister. Willow's mind started to pack away the hurt over her best friend's death and started to plan for Dawn's future. And Spike tenderly scooped the girl up in his arms, beginning to brake down in tears again as she leaned against his torn black shirt and passed out.
Seeing that everyone was accounted for, Willow nodded firmly and led the somber procession to Buffy's house. And whenever her thoughts would stray again to how much pain and emptiness she felt with the passing of the Slayer, she played back the voice:
You're the strongest of all of us, Willow, don't you see that? You're my big gun.
