TITLE: The Longest Day

SERIES: Wheel of the Year

AUTHOR: Nymue

EMAIL: josette@aol.com

RATED: PG13

DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Not yours. They belong to Joss, the WB, UPN and FOX. This is a not-for-profit fanfiction. No infringement is intended.

SUMMARY: Buffy's dead. Welcome to the World of Not Coping.

SPOILERS: Post "The Gift" and "There's No Place Like Plrtz Glrb."

SERIES CHRONOLOGY: Follows "The Rites of May."

NOTE: Incantations and rituals adapted from "The Spiral Dance" by Starhawk and "A Witches' Bible" by Janet and Stewart Farrar.

FEEDBACK: Is much appreciated.

***

Cover the earth four times with flowers.

Cover the sky with banks of clouds.

Cover the earth with fog.

Cover the earth with rain.

Let lightning cover the earth.

Let thunder cover the earth.

Let great rain cover the earth.

Let thunder be heard on the face of my mother.

-- Southwestern American rain invocation

***

June 18, 2001 -- Sunnydale

The flowers were wilting.

Dawn came to this conclusion as she traced the lettering on her sister's tombstone for the sixteenth time that day, her eyes following the curves of the inscriptions and only vaguely noticing the flowers. It had been Xander's idea, of course; only he would be the one to come up with 'she saved the world a lot' and put it on Buffy's grave marker. Had Giles been more coherent the inscription would no doubt have read 'once in every generation' … and possibly in Latin. Not that it mattered; no saying could possibly condense her sister's life. Not even a million words could pay homage to all her sister had been and yet she still lingered over the words, unable to look away.

She finally closed her eyes and when she opened them she had tilted her head away from the gravestone. This was when she saw how the heat had wilted the flowers that wreathed the stone, and she lifted one of the pale pink roses from its arrangement and allowed the petals to float to the ground. These would need to be replaced, she thought and placed it on her to-do list. However, assessing the state of the flowers was not the reason for her visit.

"Dawn?"

At first Tara wasn't sure if Dawn had heard her call. The girl seemed absorbed in her vigil, one she had kept after her summer school classes every day since they had buried Buffy. It had rained that day, the skies opening to unleash a torrent of rain that turned the normally soft and dry ground to a swamp and then to quagmire. As if the gods themselves were weeping and wailing, Tara reflected. She hadn't been completely there herself but she remembered the rain. Oh, yes, she remembered the rain because it seemed as if it would never stop pounding the town atop the Hellmouth; nearly three whole days of a steady, almost torrential downpour that threatened to flood the town proper and did flood the lower regions. If nothing else it had kept the population -- human and demon -- indoors and out of trouble and allowed the survivors to regroup and mourn.

And mourn they had, each in their own unique way. Although she had been confused and in shock she had noticed Anya's continual cleaning and the way Giles had climbed inside a bottle once the funeral was over, a bottle he had not emerged from until Willow returned from Los Angeles with the tall dark vampire who had sat on his knees before her grave -- in the rain -- until false dawn one night. Tara wondered if he would have watched the sunrise had it not been for Dawn, who had slipped away from the others and found him in the cemetery and told him something, something that forced him to take shelter with Giles until the sun had set the next day. After his departure Willow had found Spike and Xander and dragged them on a patrol, as much for her own sake as for Dawn's, who had been helping unpack the things from the room she and Willow had shared.

After that the pattern seemed to establish itself rather quickly, she thought wryly. The days dragged by and the nights seemed never ending but the routine came quickly and easily to the fragmented group. Xander took Dawn to school and she walked home or to the Magic Box, but whatever her destination she always stopped here first.

"I'm here," she said softly, startling Tara from her memories.

The witch knelt beside the girl. "Th-hat's good."

Dawn shrugged. "Is it? I know we've been through this but … it should be me here. In the ground, I mean. This should be my grave."

"Oh, Dawn -- "

"I know, I know," she said sharply. "I've heard it all, Tara, but it doesn't change my feelings. It still should have been me. I know she was the Slayer and her job was to protect people and she wanted to protect me … "

As Dawn trailed off Tara's mind churned with thoughts and impulses. Should she share her theories with Dawn? Or would it make things worse? Like many things she had thought of recently, the young witch was loath to broach the subject. Willow and magic were one; while Tara was glad to have her mind back -- more ecstatic than anyone could ever possibly hope to know -- Willow's use of dark magic bothered her. Compounding the situation was the redhead's continual use of magic for the little things that could easily be done in very little time. At first it had made sense -- no one felt up to doing those things but they needed to be done, so magick. However, using magick was no longer needed but Willow continued to do so.

And then there was her beloved's new obsession -- how to resurrect the fallen Slayer. Tara was opposed to it on all levels, but the nagging 'what if?' doubt that Willow had voiced was beginning to chip away at her resistance. While she doubted the Goddess would allow Her Chosen to languish in a demon dimension, what if … ?

"Tara?"

She shook her head and brushed away those thoughts until she had the time and space to deal with them. "Dawn … I don't think it was just Slayer stuff," she said carefully.

"Huh? What do you mean … do you know something … ?" Dawn asked, hope and suspicion warring for control.

"I think," Tara corrected. "All I have are theories, maybes … "

"What are they?"

"What did she tell you?"

Dawn blinked. "Huh? I mean, what … ?"

"What you told A-angel," she elaborated. "And Giles. What was it?"

"Oh," Dawn whispered. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because it's important … I *think* it's important."

Dawn took a deep breath and exhaled. "She said that she understood … she figured it out, that she was okay with it … that the hardest thing to do on earth was live … "

Tara nodded. "I think … Dawnie, I think if there had been a third choice she would have jumped on it, but it was either you or her. And I think she couldn't let you do it because she loved you too much."

"So?" Dawn cried, tears beginning to streak down her face. "She left me because she loved me?! Because that makes so much sense!"

"Dawn … "

"What?" she asked through clenched teeth.

"It wasn't," Tara started. "I'm n-not sure how to s-say this, Dawn."

"Try."

A deep cleansing breath later and she was ready to try again. "Dawn, I don't think Buffy could've lived if she had had to bury you. She wasn't strong enough."

Dawn looked astonished.

"Not that she wasn't Slayer strong enough," she elaborated. "But she wasn't strong enough to live through another death or departure. Giles told me one night … "

"Drunk or sober?"

Tara frowned. "Neither. He'd had a couple of glasses of wine but he wasn't drunk by any s-stretch. He said that Buffy had laid down an ultimatum, I guess you could call it. That if a-anything happened to you that she would quit, stop, give it up. That you meant more to her."

"Oh," Dawn murmured, her voice small.

"Buffy wasn't whole," she said thoughtfully, finally voicing the feeling she'd had ever since her first meeting with the Slayer. "And she couldn't lose you without losing another big piece of herself, not and live. Exist, maybe. Your mom … "

"She held it in … but she always held it in. Mom, Riley, Angel," Dawn shook her head. "Even Dad, I guess. She was never one to emote on the big things … just the little ones."

Tara squeezed Dawn's hands. "I think Buffy needed to rest, Dawnie. She was too tired to live -- especially if it meant losing you, too."

Dawn's throat closed up with emotion as she thought about what Tara was saying. It made sense and it would be just like Buffy, too. Laughter burbled up in her belly and escaped her mouth along with cries of anguish as she sank into Tara's waiting arms. She continued to laugh and cry, her body shaking with the force of her emotions as Tara rocked her back and forth.

"Oh, God, Tara … I miss her so much!"

From her place behind an old mausoleum Willow watched her lover comfort the sister of her departed best friend. Dawn's anguish ricocheted through the witch and she grabbed the stone wall for support as her own despair and doubts pounded her heart once more, breaking down carefully erected walls put in place to allow for day-to-day functioning. She had followed Tara in the hope that she could catch up with the other and have a heart to heart talk before they gathered at the magic shop. Hoped that her lover could bolster the burgeoning hope that maybe, just maybe, everything that happened with Glory was meant to happen.

That Buffy was at peace.

But as she watched Dawn collapse from exhaustion on top of her sister's grave all her fears and doubts solidified into a firm conclusion. Yes, she thought as she backed away from the scene and headed towards the shop with a new determination. She would find a way to rescue Buffy from whatever demon dimension in which she was trapped. She would do it.

Resolve Face.

***

June 19, 2001 -- Los Angeles

"Hey, English … what's with you and Cordelia?"

As Wesley looked up from his papers his glasses slipped down his nose, causing a bit of fumbling as he attempted to right them despite his startlement. The surprise on his face was echoed in his eyes and Gunn chuckled. "You still all caught up in those old papers? I figured there'd be some action by now."

"None as such," Wesley admitted. "Though I expect even the demons are a bit felled by this abominable heat. Or maybe … "

Gunn raised an eyebrow and leaned against the counter. "What, you think the Powers are givin' us a break cause Angel's gone?"

Wesley sighed. "Perhaps. It's a nice thought … even if it does mean less business."

"And a smaller paycheck," Gunn finished. "That what you and Cordy were arguing about last night?"

"Ah, no."

"Well? Come on, gimme a clue here."

The Englishman dropped his eyes to a piece of paper on the counter and Gunn tried in vain to read the words upside down. Ever since they'd returned from Pylea and Angel had heard the news that his ladylove was dead the Brit had been acting more than a bit subdued. Although he himself still had dreams -- nightmares, really -- about Alonna, he wasn't sure what to think about Wesley's reaction. Cordelia had known the dead woman longer and was holding up better than any of them … okay, so Fred was still hiding, but that was understandable considering everything she'd been through during the last five years. And she, like Gunn, hadn't known the Slayer. Man, the Slayer, that was another mind-blowing concept, he thought.

Wesley sighed again and took off his glasses before pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Cordelia and I had a … disagreement, if you will."

"Sounded like a fight to me."

"I rather suppose it did," he admitted.

"What's up, bro? She bitchin' about us taking the Courdner case?''

Wesley gave a small laugh that sounded a trifle bitter even to his own ears. "No, although I'm sure she detests the idea of us taking on a divorce case even when she herself has supported such work in the past. Still, we must if we hope to stay solvent."

"So?"

"This," he said as he indicated the scrap of paper. "It's from a friend of Buffy's in Sunnydale, Tara, who I believe is Willow's girlfriend -- "

"Willow?" Gunn asked. "The redhead who -- "

"Yes, that was Willow," Wesley confirmed. "Tara called yesterday to invite us to a Requiem for Buffy. It's … they're holding it tomorrow, on the Summer Solstice."

The former Watcher caught the confused look on Gunn's face and hurried to explain. "A Requiem is a sort of memorial service held by practitioners of Wicca. I had not realized that Buffy subscribed to any religious beliefs and I must say I am surprised to learn that she was a part of what is, for the most part, a coven."

"A coven?" Gunn frowned. "Like those people a few months ago?"

"Yes and no. Both Willow and Tara are practicing witches, magick users, but to the best of my knowledge the others involved were simply there for other reasons. Though I shouldn't have been surprised if Buffy had shown some magickal aptitude … Slayers occasionally do," he admitted.

Gunn nodded slowly. "Okay … but I thought you guys went to the funeral? Why hold a memorial service now?"

"We did not attend the funeral," Wesley corrected softly as he looked away. "By the time we returned the funeral, such as it was, had been held and we … " his voice broke and he cleared his throat. "We simply paid our respects."

"Such as it was?"

"They did not wish anyone to know of her death," he said simply. "For a variety of reasons, I imagine, not the least of which being what would happen on the Hellmouth if the demons discovered she was dead. So they buried her rather quickly -- by themselves -- in a remote part of Sunnydale's eldest and therefore most unused cemetery."

"I can see that," Gunn said slowly. "But how do they intend to make it work?"

Wesley chuckled, a bitter sound that raised the hairs on the back of Gunn's neck. "Apparently there's a Buffybot, I think they called it. A robot, more android, that looks and sounds like Buffy … Willow has programmed it to fight and perform the other necessary chores … "

Gunn's face narrowed in contemplation. "Okay, I can see that. Even the bit about the quick burial and the memorial or whatever. But what's that got to do with you and Cordy arguing?"

"Everything, I'm afraid."

"What?"

"Cordelia has changed a great deal," Wesley began, carefully choosing his words in case this conversation ever got back to its subject. "She's matured and grown and become a remarkable young woman who's enduring a tremendous burden as gracefully as possible. For all this, I admire her. However, she still carries a great deal of anger and resentment toward Buffy, some of it earned and some of it not. And while she was willing to pay her respects -- indeed, I'm sure she felt the loss even if she says little of it -- she feels no need to attend the Requiem.

"And she resents that I intend to do so," he finished.

"Why do you?" Gunn questioned. "I mean, you knew her the least of the three of you. Angel, I can understand that. But from what I've heard I'd think you'd see it Cordelia's way."

Wesley shook his head.

"Why?"

"She was my Slayer, once," he said quietly. "It's as simple and complicated as that. Once taken up, the mantle of Watcher is almost impossible to relinquish … I cannot even imagine how Giles must feel. He was, after all, her Watcher before I arrived and after I left despite losing the Council's support."

Gunn cocked his head to the side. "But here you are."

"Yes, here I am. Fighting the good fight without the Council's support, true, but I'm still performing that which I swore to do," Wesley explained. "Only now instead of a Slayer I have Angel."

"So?"

"It's practically inexplicable, the bond between Slayer and Watcher. My ties to Buffy and Faith," he faltered for a moment as he remembered pain and blood wrapped up in a lithe body and long dark hair. "My tie to them may have been weak and flawed but it did -- does -- exist."

"And Cordy doesn't understand," Gunn realized. "So she gets angry and hurt, not just on Angel's behalf."

"Heard that bit, have you?" Wesley asked dryly.

Gunn grinned. "Oh, yeah. It's one of her favorite topics."

Wesley simply shook his head in commiseration. "No, she does not understand and though I've tried to explain … she does not quite comprehend why I must go. Angel, she would understand. Me? Not at all."

"So … ?"

"I'll not be here tomorrow," Wesley said as he closed his eyes and leaned back. "As for Cordelia … well … "

"I'll come by and keep an eye on Fred," Gunn offered. After a moment he frowned and reconsidered. "Make that an ear."

Wesley smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Charles. Thank you."

***

June 20, 2001 -- Outside Los Angeles

This place was really kinda dingy even if it did smell of antiseptic cleaners, she thought absently as she waited. Despite the new laws, the scent of stale cigarettes seemed to linger in the air and the tops of the walls were stained from years of the smoke clinging to the white surfaces. Why no one had painted over them she wasn't sure, but she doubted many of the people who came through here cared that much; after all, nobody was here for very long. Still, as an outward and public facade it could be neater, she decided. Then again, it *was* a prison.

What did she expect?

Not the curiosity on the face of the woman she had come to see. Cordelia chided herself for thinking she had been Faith's only visitor of late because she knew Angel had come before he left for his monastery in Tibet or India, whichever. However, the fact that the other Slayer seemed curious about her presence disturbed her. "Faith."

"Cordelia," she replied cautiously. "What's with the sudden visit?"

A well-groomed brow arched as she shrugged. "I thought, you know, it's time to come see you again."

Faith sat back in chair and stared at the other woman. She was a lighter shade of brunette these days, she noted, with even paler highlights and streaks no less. Unsure what to think -- is she changing the outside to reflect a changed woman or just cultivating a new look? -- Faith said nothing for the space of several heartbeats while she considered the various reasons for Cordelia's presence. Unable to decipher more than one contender she frowned; surely the former May Queen was better at the forgiving thing than she was, right?

"Really?" Faith asked, a tiny smile playing along her lips. "I kinda thought you'd be in Sunnydale."

Cordelia started violently at Faith's words, unable to believe she'd heard them from the so-called Dark Slayer. "Why do you say that?"

Faith shrugged. "Wesley was here yesterday, that's why I was surprised to see you. Told me about the Requiem thingy that Red's girlfriend organized. Figured you'd be there, on your way there, whatever."

"Wesley was here?" Cordelia struggled to wrap her mind around that little tidbit. For so long he had not only avoided visiting Faith but any mention of the woman, his former charge, who had tortured him a year before. The knowledge that he had finally broken that habit by stepping into the lion's den, so to speak, nearly blew her mind. And the thought that it happened now reignited the spark of anger she had thought banked.

"You sound surprised."

Cordelia narrowed her eyes at the tone in the other woman's voice -- amusement coupled with faint mockery. "I am," she replied smoothly. "He's avoided any mention of you for so long that I have to admit to being surprised."

"You shouldn't be," Faith drawled.

"And why not?" Cordelia snapped.

Faith sat up straight and locked eyes with her visitor through the bulletproof glass. "Because," she stated. "I'm a Slayer. He's a Watcher. Better yet, he was my Watcher."

Cordelia snorted. "Like you had a lot of respect there."

"True," she agreed. "I didn't. But it doesn't change the facts. And the fact is that there is a bond, I guess you could say, between a Slayer and her Watcher. My strongest was with my first Watcher, Emmaline Fields, but there was one with Giles too. And eventually with Wes though I didn't recognize it at the time; it's the weakest of the three, but it was there. *Is* there, actually. Might even be stronger now."

"So?" Cordelia asked tightly.

Faith leaned closer to the glass separating the two. "So, if *I've* got a bond with him, so did Buffy. And hers was a bit stronger -- not by much, but enough."

Anger boiled closer to the surface as brown eyes flashed a warning. "Again. So?"

"Let's get it out, CC," Faith said fixedly. "You're here because Wesley went to Sunnydale. Why?"

"That's just it!" she exclaimed. "Why is he there? Buffy was nothing but nasty and bitchy to him even after he started working here in LA. Why does he care?"

"And you haven't been nasty and bitchy?" Faith asked rhetorically.

"What?"

"You've been nasty and bitchy, you know. But you've been more than that, too. Do you really think the nasty and bitchy is all people would remember if you were dead?"

Cordelia stared.

"Lemme tell you a few things," Faith started. "First thing -- Wes went to Sunnydale because Buffy was, for a short time, his Slayer. Period. It's not something easily understood so I'm not even gonna try. Just accept it."

"Okay, Wise One," Cordelia said sarcastically. "What else?"

"Second thing," she continued. "You're wicked angry, CC. Seems to me that you're angry because of things that happened to people you care about now. At the time that kinda support was fine, but they're obviously past it or dealing."

"And?"

"Get over it," Faith said bluntly. "They're both grown men fully capable of making their own choices and coping with their own fuck ups, so they don't need you to carry all that righteous indignation for them. If you're angry, be angry for yourself. You got personal issues with B, fine, but leave Angel and Wes out of it. Besides, I'm not the only one looking for a bit of redemption, am I?"

Cordelia shifted in her seat and tried to look unfazed. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, just this," Faith stared intently at the other brunette. "I think you came here to bitch about how B hurt Angel and Wesley and how you can't understand why they care at all. I think you expected me to commiserate or whatever. Once upon a time I would have, but not now."

Overcome with curiosity now that Faith had deduced her original intent, Cordelia allowed herself to show a bit of interest. "What changed?"

Faith tipped her head to the side in consideration. Should she tell the girl everything? Yes, she finally decided; Cordelia would have to hear it all. "Me and B, we came to an understanding a few months ago when she came to see me. She knew the shit was gonna hit the fan so she decided to clear the air. Yeah, she came of her own free will, don't look so shocked."

Cordelia closed her mouth with an audible snap.

"Anyway, even if she hadn't I don't think I'd've participated in a bitch fest with you."

"Why?" Cordelia asked before she could stop herself.

Faith's eyes darkened and began to water. Cordelia watched in surprised fascination as the dark haired Slayer took a shaky breath as she wiped at her eyes, gasping at the sheer pain she saw in those depths when they met hers once more.

"Slayers have a bond too," she said quietly, her voice fraught with barely repressed anguish. "Me and B … we shared a lot. Might've shared more, someday. Maybe not. But even if I hadn't talked to her I wouldn't bitch about her now, because I felt it when she died."

Cordelia stared in shock, her mind working furiously to process this revelation.

"No, not just felt," Faith absently corrected herself. "I shared her death with her, those last few moments of her life … I know what she knew, felt what she felt … "

Faith locked eyes with Cordelia. "Doesn't get more intimate, CC, than sharing death. You think about that."

Cordelia watched in shocked silence as Faith hung up her phone and walked over to alert the waiting guard, her eyes following the Slayer until she was out of sight. Only then did the import of what she had heard manage to sink in.

She sat as still as stone as the receiver slipped from her hand.

***

June 21, 2001 -- Sunnydale

In a hurry, Dawn sprinted up the stairs in search of a missing witch. Willow had been busy and distracted over breakfast and murmured vaguely about errands and such, leading Tara to wonder if her lover had found something concrete or promising with her shiny new obsession. However, Dawn knew nothing of this; indeed, she had been so buried in her own motley mass of emotions that even if her two keepers had been fighting she wouldn't have noticed.

She reached the landing and burst into what she still thought of as her mother's room only to find it empty, the bed made and clothes put away. A frown crossed her face as she whirled around, unsure now where to look for Willow when she spotted an envelope with Tara's name propped on the dresser. Curiosity strummed through her blood so she picked it up and jogged back down the stairs, grabbing her jacket before she headed back to the clearing where the others were waiting.

Tara and Anya were finishing the preparations while Xander and Giles looked on, and Tara breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Dawn's head crest the top of the hill as the sun sank below the horizon. Her relief was quickly tarnished when she realized the girl was alone and, for the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to feel anger towards her lover. Her anger, however, faded as she read the words Willow had penned.

'Tara,

'I know you'll be mad, but I can't come tonight. My parents have never been the most attentive people -- Goddess knows they've ignored me for years -- but I guess the news about Joyce finally sunk in. Mom called yesterday evening while you were out and wanted to talk … she sounded like she was all there, if you get my drift. Completely present while we talked about why I moved in with Dawn (and the Buffybot, but of course she thinks what everyone else thinks … ) and some other stuff. Anyway, she and Dad want to have dinner with me tonight and I couldn't say no. They're making real attempts, Tara, and I won't lie and say I dislike them for it. Maybe it'll last, probably not, but it's real enough right now.

'And right now I need this. Please understand.

'I love you.

'Willow.'

A tear slid down Tara's face as she squeezed the crumpled note. It's okay, Willow, she promised her lover silently. Take all the time you need … I'm sure Buffy would want you to.

"Is everything all right, Tara?"

The concern in Giles' tired voice snapped the witch back into the present and she smiled sadly at the Watcher. "Yeah," she sighed. "Willow's not coming … her parents … she says they're really trying this time … she thinks maybe Joyce's death might have … "

Giles nodded as she trailed off. "Perhaps some good will come of it if … "

Tara met his eyes. "If," she agreed.

As the two contemplated the eventual heartbreak Willow was courting both silently agreed that they would say nothing until it was necessary. They exchanged a glance with Xander who merely shrugged, unable to offer any helpful advice on the situation. With a slight sigh they took seats in a loose circle as they awaited the arrival of whomever else would be attending.

Spike was the next to arrive and no one said anything as the platinum blond vampire dropped to the ground between Tara and Dawn, the latter reaching out and squeezing his hand. On her other side was Giles, whose right hand found her left and gave it a comforting pat.

Less than ten minutes had passed as they gazed into the flickering flames of the fire -- although most would have agreed it felt longer -- when Wesley arrived, quietly taking a seat between Tara and Xander. His eyes met Giles' in shared sympathy and understanding as the moments trailed past, the shortest night dragging on much as had the day. Neither man broke contact until a slight rustling alerted them to another presence and Wesley looked up, surprised but pleased to see Cordelia hesitating at the outer boundaries of the circle.

Cordelia still wasn't completely sure what had prompted her to return to her hometown and the Requiem being held. It may have been the shock of Faith's revelation or her own guilty conscience, but either way she had found her way to the ceremony and knew there was no turning back. She sank to her knees between Xander and Anya and tried not to think of the irony.

Tara cleared her throat and looked to Dawn, who began the simple circle casting by carefully lighting a long slender bundle of twigs and hand rolled incense by sticking them in the fire. "Welcome our minds to your essence, Air, and grant us your dominion and protection."

Anya did the same, murmuring, "Welcome our hearts to your essence, Fire, and grant us your dominion and protection."

Another bundle caught flame as Xander, in Willow's stead, steadily repeated the words Tara had taught him. "Welcome our lives to your essence, Water, and grant us your dominion and protection."

Tara did as the three before her and watched as the bundle caught fire and scented the open air with a mixture of sage, saffron and myrrh. "Welcome our bodies to your essence, Earth, and grant us your dominion and protection." Once the bottom of the flaming bundle was buried in the ground, she looked up and continued by saying, "The circle is cast. We are between the worlds, beyond the bounds of time, where night and day, birth and death, joy and sorrow, meet as one. With the Sun God at the height of his power and majesty, the waxing of the year is accomplished and the reign of the Oak King is ended. With the Sun God at the height of his splendor the waning of the year begins, and the Holly King must slay his brother the Oak King and rule over the land until the depth of winter, when his brother shall be born again."

"During most years we would celebrate Midsummer on this night," Dawn started, her voice more than a little shaky. "But tonight we call for a Requiem, and so we meet in both sadness and … j-joy. We are sad because a chapter has closed … b-but we are joyful because, by the closing, a new ch-chapter may begin."

"We meet to mark the passing of our beloved sister, Buffy, for whom this incarnation is ended," Tara said softly but clearly. And as she did so, Xander smiled as he remembered days when he, Willow and Buffy would hang and patrol and then crash and watch a marathon of monster movies. For so long he had deluded himself into thinking their relationship was more than friendship -- and he had been right. Just not the way he'd once thought. And tonight he missed his sister and hero far more than he had since that horrible night but he found, to his surprise, a smile lingering on his lips as he glimpsed days gone by.

"We meet to commend her to the care of blessing of the Goddess and the God, that she may rest free from illusion or regret … " Tara's words struck Giles in the heart as she voiced his second fondest wish -- that his wonderful Slayer, his beloved daughter had somehow attained the peace she had so long been denied. And there amidst the others who had cared for her he felt it become his fondest wish as the yearnings to have her with him eased just a touch. By no means gone, that desire was sublimated in favor of wishing the best for the one who had taught him how to love again.

"Until the time shall come for her rebirth to this world … " Tara felt a shudder pass through her as she uttered these words and she prayed that the foreboding feeling was just that, a feeling. She prayed Willow would let it go …

"And knowing that this shall be so, we know, too, that the sadness is nothing and the joy is all … " Bugger that, Spike thought. There's nothing joyous about her death even if she was a Slayer. It was too soon … but he would keep the promise he'd made until his final death or the end of the world. Whichever came first.

"We call to thee, Ama, dark sterile Mother … we commend to thee Buffy, our sister … admit her to the peace of the Summerlands, which stand between life and life … " Let there be another life, Anya thought morosely. Let Buffy live again one day once she's ready and don't let her be trapped in some demon dimension.

"Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken, or the pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern … then shall the dust return to the earth as it was and the spirit shall return to the Goddess who gave it … " Wesley shut his eyes and said his own small prayers as he thought about the petite blonde he'd once considered far too contrary. She was simply herself, no more, except when those around her needed more and then she felt the burdens more heavily. Why did he not see then? Or were time and distance the true healers? Whatever the reason he felt the lack of her now and wished her the peace she so richly earned.

"We call to thee, Aima, bright fertile Mother, thou who art the womb of rebirth, from whom all manifested life proceeds … " A tear slid down Cordelia's check before she realized she was crying and the Seer felt the magnitude of her loss for the first time. Yes, her loss as well. A loss, she acknowledged painfully as a scream caught in her throat, that might have been prevented had she told Angel *everything* she had seen while under Vocah's spell …

"We commend to thee Buffy, our sister … take her, guide her, guard her and bring her in the fullness of time to a new birth and a new life … " In the depths of the magic shop books floated down from their shelves as a redheaded witch searched doggedly for a way to resurrect her fallen friend. It was not a natural death, she thought as she ran her finger down a page. And if she's trapped in some hell

world … Willow shuddered at the thought and skimmed over the page, her finger suddenly stopping as the notation caught her eyes. The Urn of Osiris …

"And grant that in that new life she may be loved again, as we her brothers and sisters have loved her."

Deep in a tangled jungle Riley looked up at the moon as a stray breeze ruffled his hair and broke his concentration. A woman nearby gave a shout and his attention was realigned but for a moment, for just second, he could have sworn …

In a club a musician fumbled a perfect D chord as the werewolf known as Oz heard a low, mournful howl of grief in his mind's ear. The pack grieved for their fallen leader and he suddenly shivered as he felt the urge to howl at the moon.

As darkness fell and cast shadows through iron bars Faith allowed tears to fall not for her sister but for herself, for now she was truly alone.

Somewhere in Asia a vampire cried tears of blood as the wind whispered and carried on its wings the grief and joy of her mourners, the power that had bound her soul to his seeking him out in the farthest reaches of the globe.

And deep within the womb of the earth Buffy Summers found peace.

END