Willow did not cry at the funeral.

The rest of them did, even Anya. There was no consoling Dawn. For days, she was either silent or sobbing, openly and loud - and who could blame her? All that loss, squeezed into such a short space of time. It would break anyone - Summers woman or not.

It was Giles who took care of all the official work, signing papers and police reports. It was Giles that Dawn pleaded with, begging him not to call her father.

'I can't leave, Giles.' Her chin wobbled as she spoke. 'This is my home. My family - my family is here. Please. Don't make me leave.'

Giles didn't make the call, in the end. Not because he couldn't - although that was true, since he had no way of contacting Mr. Summers; it was because Dawn was right. And who was to say she would be any better with her estranged father, away from everything she knew?

So Dawn stayed.

Anya and Xander bickered. Giles drank. Tara tried to comfort Dawn, and when that didn't work, she cried along with her.

The day after the funeral Tara woke alone. She searched the mattress, still half-asleep, and found nothing but cold sheets. She sat up in bed with the covers wrapped around her and squinted into the darkness.

'Willow? Baby?'

Tara heard a book snap shut, papers rustling hastily.

'Will?'

'Uh-huh?'

Tara slipped out of bed, padding towards the girl who was hunched up on the floor. 'It's late.'

Willow nodded. She stood and made her way toward her girlfriend, but stopped when she saw Tara peering past her. A yellowed corner was protruding from beneath the wardrobe.

Tara stepped forward and plucked the sheet of paper from it's rushed hiding place, Willow making no excuses or any attempt to stop her.

'What's this?'

Willow's jaw was set in determination. 'A spell.'

'This... This is dark stuff, Will. This is black magic.' Tara read on, her eyes zigzagging across the page. 'This is... This is a resurrection spell. Willow, this is bad. You can't use this. You know that, don't you?'

'I only have a few ingredients left. I have the power, I know I do.' Willow's voice took on a pleading tone. 'I could do this. We could do this. We could bring Buffy back! Don't you want that?'

'Of course I do -'

'Then let's do it! We'll do it together; you and me. We're stronger together. Nothing'll go wrong, not if we both do it.'

'Stop! This isn't right, okay? I know you're hurting and Buffy's your friend, but you can't just go around raising the dead! It won't work - and even if it did, could you imagine the consequences? What if she's not all Buffy? What if she brings something back with her? Something even worse than Glory?'

Willow's voice went hard. 'I owe it to her to try.'

Tara shook her head. 'Will, honey, what makes you think she wants to come back?'

'She's alone in a hell dimension-'

'No! You want to believe she needs saving because if she's at peace, you can't bring her back. But you're wrong. Buffy was a hero. She gave her life for Dawn, for all of us - if there's a heaven, that's where she is.' Tears were streaming down Tara's face.'...She's with Joyce now, Will. She's happy.'

And then, almost 17 hours after the funeral, Willow began to sob.