Requiem
There would be no formal funeral service for Buffy Anne Summers. After talking it over, the Scooby Gang had come to the conclusion there was no way any service could express what Buffy had been to them—or the whole world. Instead, the graveside service would be . . . a little different.
There certainly hadn't been lack of clergy willing to do the service. Literally every clergyperson in town had been saved by Buffy at one time or another, and most had called to offer their services for the funeral, free of charge. Giles had politely declined all offers but one from Father Daniel Byrnes, the cheerful, round-faced priest who had kept Buffy supplied with holy water for the last three years. Father Byrnes would consecrate the ground Buffy laid in, to allow her the rest in death she'd been denied in life.
Giles, Xander, Angel, and Spike would be Buffy's pallbearers. Giles reflected that Buffy would surely be the only Slayer in history whose coffin was borne by even one, let alone two, vampires. As they approached the closed casket, the Watcher looked back at Angel.
"Do you want . . . would you like to see her?"
Angel stood stock-still. "No. Yes." He shook his head. "No."
"Are you quite sure?" Wesley asked gently from behind him.
The vampire closed his eyes. "No."
Giles nodded once and opened the casket, stepping back. He had no wish to see Buffy's body again. He knew what she looked like: long, coral-colored dress with matching headband, seashell earrings and pendant, hair fanned out around her face, face in gentle repose, almost like sleep. But not.
Angel approached slowly. Every movement was an effort as he moved closer to the coffin and forced himself to look at the still form within it. One hand rose, reaching out toward Buffy's face . . .
And was abruptly withdrawn. Angel turned away. Wesley's face tightened with concern.
Giles closed the casket, and Angel turned back toward it, seeming to have rallied. The two men and two vampires lifted it from its stand, Giles and Xander in front, Spike and Angel in back. Slowly, with infinite care, the four bore the coffin out of the chapel and toward the graveyard, Dawn walking ahead of them.
As they exited the chapel, they became aware of something wondrous: people. A huge crowd had gathered, many of whom the Scooby Gang knew only in passing. As Giles recognized a few faces—former Sunnydale High attendees, clergy and their families, Buffy's college friends, even Willy the Snitch—he suddenly realized why they were here: to pay tribute to the Slayer, because they knew none of them would be alive without her.
The sea of people parted to allow Dawn to pass through. Soft murmurs of sympathy washed over the girl, who looked around with pure amazement in her eyes. The pallbearers with the coffin came next, and behind them, Buffy's loved ones. They and the whole crowd moved toward the plot that had been chosen for Buffy, a beautiful spot beside her mother under a tree that would provide dappled shade during the day.
As they reached it, Willow and Tara went on ahead. Standing on either side of the grave, they chanted softly, then threw spell-sand in the air. There was a burst of light, and a soft radiance centered itself above the grave that would be Buffy's resting place.
After positioning the coffin, Giles, Xander, Angel, and Spike stepped back. Willow stood at Buffy's headstone and addressed the crowd, her voice magically amplified.
"We come to bear witness to the deeds of Buffy Anne Summers, the Chosen One. All who wish to speak will be heard. I witness that Buffy not only kept me from death more times than I can count, she taught me how to live. Buffy was my best friend. She lent me her strength when I needed it, and she allowed me to be strong for her when she couldn't be. All the courage I possess, I owe to her."
Jonathan Levenson stepped up to the grave. "Buffy showed me I wasn't alone, and that there are heroes in the world." He placed a single flower on her coffin.
Xander was next. "Everything brave or worthwhile I do can be traced back to Buffy. I don't know who I'd be without her, and I don't want to know." He left a white rose on her coffin. As he stepped back, Anya wrapped her arms around him, and he buried his face in her hair.
Tara came forward next. "Buffy helped me to understand what family really is."
Pastor Mike Vaughn, a Baptist minister, was next. "Buffy Summers saved not only my life, but every member of my family. I have prayed for her every day of the last five years, because she was the answer to my prayers when she came here."
And so it went. People came forward, some with wounds suffered at the hands (or teeth) of demonic creatures and stories of how Buffy saved them. Not all spoke. Spike stepped forward wordlessly to lay a yellow rose of friendship on Buffy's coffin. Dawn didn't speak either, just placed her pink rose on the coffin. She swayed just a little as she did so. Spike was the one who caught her elbows and supported her, then pulled her back.
Angel stepped forward. He kissed the red rose he held in his hand and placed it on the casket, and his soft "Beloved" murmured through the crowd, amplified by Willow and Tara's spell. No one who saw his bloody, thorn-pricked palm as he let go of the rose would ever forget it. He moved back, and Cordelia gently took his hand and wrapped it in a handkerchief. Wesley stepped to his side as well. Angel wrapped an arm around each of them.
Witness after witness spoke, but in the end, all was silence. As the coffin was lowered and the grave was filled in, a woman's throaty alto began to sing an old spiritual about "my travelin' days are over." Dawn wept in Willow's arms as her sister's casket disappeared into the earth.
Father Byrnes was the last one to approach Buffy's grave, chanting in Latin and sprinkling the grave with holy water. All at once, both Spike and Angel took a step back.
"Good and consecrated, all right," murmured Spike.
"Requiescat in pacem," finished Father Byrnes. "In nomine Patris, et Fili, et Spiritus Sancti."
"Amen."