They sat in a circle, at Xander's place. Some on the couch, some on the floor. Nobody really noticed. There was crying, a lot of crying. Like it had been with Joyce, but a thousand times worse. Xander was too stricken even for anger. Anya's stomach hurt. Willow and Tara had an arm around each other, and Willow was talking, and Willow was crying, sobbing, but she had been for so long now that she just kept talking right through it. Tara, silent, was holding Dawn in her arms, the skinny body curled close, wracked with sobs. Spike was there.
He was listening to Willow, trying to listen to her, because who cared anymore how they had been before. His knees were in front of his chest, and his elbows resting on them, as he tried to hold his head up with shaking hands. He had to look down between his knees a lot, into the darkness of his clothes, away from everyone. Had to let the tears fall discreetly.
"So," Giles, staring at the carpet, numb. "We have to try to figure out… what, what to do to, um, to keep on," his stuttering was less from earnestness and more because he was barely listening to himself, "keep on living." He glanced at Spike. "Or whatever it is we do now." They looked up at him, all except Dawn, who couldn't right then.
Xander tried to speak. "I know this is horrible, but… if we need something really strong to protect… this place, here… us," his voice cracked, "We have that… robot." He winced as he said it. The others were shocked.
"You're right." Quietly, from Anya. "We do have that." Silence.
"Oh god." Willow's voice had broken, it was a whimper, high and distorted because her throat wasn't working very well. "Dawnie. Oh god." She began sobbing anew. Tara held both women more tightly, rubbing Dawn's back. The funeral today… hadn't helped. Not really.
The group shared looks. Tara looked to Willow. "We could—" She stopped, not sure if they could. Willow looked up, nodding.
"Yeah," she answered. "We could, I think…"
"I will." They all turned. Spike.
"Spike," Giles began, "I know right now we're all very-"
"Please," Spike growled. "I know what I'm doing. I can take care of her, all right?" He was barely stopping himself from breaking down. "I just… I know what has to be… Give me a chance, all right!" He looked like his stomach felt worse than Anya's. "I can. I can this time. I will."
Who knows if Xander would've made some pointless remark about Spike's ill-fated feelings towards their Protector, about getting in good, if he'd had the energy or the will. At this point, it didn't much matter anyway. It was hard to argue.