It was a gloomy day, like a response to the injustice of his death.

His casket has been lowered for over an hour now and most of the attendees have already left except for six people who remained on the spot, looking helpless and lost. Wes' death was still a mystery, something that is weighing down the group, especially with Annalise stuck in prison, and all eyes—friends and strangers—are on them.

Asher cleared his throat and looked at his friends hesitantly. "I…" he started. No one knew what to say, not even him who is known to be the tactless one in the group. He sat right on the edge of the freshly filled-up grave, playing with the dirt aimlessly. "So what now?" he finally asked.

No one spoke for a while. How could they? No one knew the answer, not even Bonnie who visited Annalise in prison almost everyday. Annalise didn't have an answer, either. They only knew two things about Wes' death: one, he was dead before the fire; and two, someone killed him on purpose. They didn't know a lot, and the facts they have doesn't answer much of their questions but they held onto these facts as if right answers are hidden in between, waiting to be unraveled.

"Wish we weren't so hard on him," Michaela muttered.

Connor scoffed. "He deserved it, Michaela. He started the mess we were in and kept secrets from us. I know—," his voice suddenly cracked, the emotions he was bottling inside trying to surface. Connor took a deep breath before speaking again. "I know I wasn't the nicest to him and I have threatened him a number of times but… who ever did this... it is also an attack on us. On Annalise. We have to be prepared."

"I'm willing to help," Oliver suddenly announced in a quiet tone. They all looked at him, even Laurel who was just looking at Wes' tombstone the whole time her friends were talking. Oliver glanced over at Connor. They haven't talked since that horrible night at the hospital but he knew Connor understood. Oliver knew everything and it was probably why Connor was staying away.

Asher got up from the ground and puts a hand on Oliver's shoulder. "Buddy, you don't know what you're trying to get into," he said in a nervous tone. Everyone in the group were aware of Oliver's innocence and letting him help them would corrupt the man even more, but they were also aware of how much they needed his expertise. They were torn, to say the least.

"No, I've spoken with Annalise," Oliver said.

"Of course," Connor scoffed again.

"This is not the time to talk about this," Bonnie interrupted the brewing tension forming between the ex-lovers. They have been inseparable since the night of the fire but they haven't talked about getting back together. Their lives were on pause. Bonnie looks over to Laurel who went back to staring at the tombstone. She approached the grieving woman and touchers her arm. "Laurel, are you okay? Do you want to sit down for a second?"

Laurel shook her head and kept staring. She put a hand to her stomach and clutched onto her dress. They all stared at her. She hasn't spoken to anyone other than Meggy. Meggy came to the funeral but because she was hurting in a different way, she left as soon as the service was over. She couldn't look at anyone, and didn't stop crying the whole time. They were all thinking the same thing: she got lucky she wasn't roped into their mess. Before leaving, she approached Laurel and whispered something in her ear. They hugged afterwards and the other woman left, and they probably won't see her again.

It was Laurel who saw them first. Her eyes, clouded with unshed tears, saw their forms getting closer. She blinked and they became clearer. Eight people, who looked like they were the same age as them, approached Wes' grave.

A woman with a wild, bushy hair was holding a small wreath. She was also holding hands with the tallest person Laurel had ever seen. Behind them was a man with a crazy jet black hair and huge glasses, walking together with a ginger-haired woman. Following along was three people—a man in between two blonde-haired women. They looked confused and sad at the same time, Laurel noted. And then he saw another man who was walking slowly way behind all of them. His face was pale, and he was wearing a neon pink dress. When he got closer, Laurel's crew finally noticed the people approaching. They all stood close together, waiting to see where they were headed to. When they realized they're approaching Wes' grave, they tensed.

"Is this it?" The bushy-haired woman asked. "Wes Gibbins?"

The man with glasses nodded. "That's it." He looked at the people wearing funeral clothes standing in front of Wes' grave. They didn't even notice but they moved towards the grave, looking ready to fight.

Connor noticed the accents first. He looked at all of them curiously, and rest his eyes on the man wearing the dress. He was confused. How could these English people know who Wes is?

A woman with a long, straight blonde hair approached Laurel and smiled at her. "Hmm, you will have the most beautiful child."

The other blonde-haired woman looked embarrassed and pulled the other woman away from Laurel. "I'm sorry!" she exclaimed.

Laurel looked shocked and covered her stomach with her arm, Oliver and Asher stood in front of the woman to protect her as well. They didn't know what to say, but most importantly, they're curious, so they moved to give the eight stranger space around Wes' grave.

The four people who walked in front of their group stood on one side of the grave while the other three stood on the other side. The man wearing the bright dress stood in front of Wes' grave. He started crying and knelt, grabbing dirt as he cried. The other eight strangers started crying as well. They were muttering words Laurel and the others couldn't understand. They also heard them mentioning unfamiliar names. Mostly, they heard them say "Dean" over and over again.

Michaela and Asher held each other as they watch the strangers grieve. They didn't know why, but they couldn't leave. They knew they were interrupting a private moment but they were curious. They were curious about the strangers' identities, and confused about their connection with their dead friend. After a few minutes, the strangers stopped crying and wiped their faces. The kneeling man stood up and the eight strangers hugged each other.

Laurel walked over them, her movement surprising her friends. She tapped the tall red-haired man's back. He turned and looked down at Laurel. His eyes were red and puffy from crying. "Who are you?" she asked in a small voice.

They all turned to look at her this time. The man on a dress gasped. "You're Laurel, aren't you?"

She nodded, confused. "Who are you?" she asked again. Her friends walked up to her and stood right behind her.

"How did you know her name?" Michaela asked.

"Dea—Wes," the man started. "Wes mentioned you."

"We should talk somewhere else," Bonnie broke in, before her companions ask for more questions. Bonnie gave them the address to her house and asked them to meet them there in an hour. The strangers left quietly, holding on to one another.

"That was freakin' weird," Asher broke the silence after the strangers left their sight. "I guess Wes still has surprises in store for us."

Connor groaned. "He's dead but he's still dragging us along to his mess."

"How sure are you this is another mess?" Oliver asked.

"Let's just go," Michaela interjected. "They'll probably go straight to Bonnie's house, and I have so many questions."

They all turned to look at Wes' grave once again, and started to walk away. Laurel didn't move at first. Then, she walked towards the tombstone and caressed its smooth edges, just like the times she used to caress Wes' face. She dropped her hand to her side and whimpered, "I will always miss you, Wes."

Then she left, and rain started pouring down heavily, beating down on the ground.