The tree is old and withered and worn, just like the two friends sitting beneath it.
Xander's head rests on Willow's lap; she plaits flowers in his greying hair.
"Told you you'd look good with daisies," she says sleepily.
"Anything looks good on me," he jokes. She laughs quietly.
"You think -"
"Don't," Willow says peacefully. Xander smiles briefly.
"Remember when Buffy was gone all summer?" he murmurs dreamily.
"And we had ice cream every day -"
"And you curled my hair-"
"And I wore your sports kit," she says, spluttering with laughter.
"Good old days, huh?"
"Remember the Master? How we thought he was so hard to beat?"
"And then there was the blonde bombshell," Xander comments.
"And me. Don't forget me."
"Yeah, me saving the world? Totally slipped my mind."
A comfortable silence falls over the couple. Willow strokes Buffy's fair head absently, without thinking.
"Will." Xander says gently. He looks up at her. "I think it's time."
The red head witch nods slowly. The pair stand, and Xander lifts Buffy in his arms.
Willow waves her arms, and the bubble around the three falls away. She winces as the stench of death hits her nose. The world is torn and broken. The earth is red; the blood has soaked in.
But not a speck has touched her. Their dead friend's skin is pristine; only her stillness betrays her. The tree behind them withers and dies quickly. The faint sound of screams reach their ears, but they barely notice.
"Ready to die, Will?" Xander asks.
She nods, and they step forward into destruction.