After the priest finished his readings, Giles came up to the podium to speak a few words before the viewing took place. There was no big speech prepared. There had been no rehearsing. What could possibly be said to encompass her essence? The body lying in the box had been Buffy Summers the young woman, and Buffy Summers The Slayer. Her classmates and the rest of the attendants, mostly teachers and acquaintances, only knew her as the young woman. Only the few figures huddled in the front truly understood who Buffy Summers really was: Woman and Slayer. Two halves of a whole. They were the only ones who could fully grasp her being, and appreciate the mark that she had left in this world.
Her tombstone read: She Saved the World a lot.
No…Giles was only there to faintly scratch the surface of a depth that welled far beyond anything the others could ever realize.
"Um…" Giles began, looking down at the wooden surface and clearing his throat. "I don't know quite what to say…um …Buffy…" He felt his composer slipping already at the sound of her name on his lips, and he scolded himself. "Buffy was…more than most of you can ever really know." He said finally, looking to the lot of strangers. "She was a warrior." The crowd murmured gently. "She saved lives, and she was strong in ways that I can't…" He paused and put his head down. His knees were knocking together, and he thought that if he relaxed, for just a moment, he would fall. He took a deep breath and pushed on. "But more than that," he resumed quietly, looking at his loved ones in the front, who stared back at him with broken faces drowned in devastation and darkness. "She was a friend. She loved…and…she never…put herself before anyone. She would sacrifice anything for the sake of others, and her death…" He took another breath. The rest of his words were shaking with the threat of emotional collapse. "Her death…her ultimate sacrifice…was grace defined. She loved unconditionally, her friends, and family…She was Joyce's daughter, but she was my daughter too. She gave…and she never sought to be repaid. She was a hero." With out another word, he bowed his head slightly to signal that he was through, and stepped down.
Willow met him half way back to his seat with an embrace, as the rest of the crowd began to bustle about hesitantly. It was time for the viewing.
The scoobie group hung back and let others file through: a sluggish stream of black pushing its way in front of them. When the crowd had cleared, and they had the privacy of each other, they stood up. Xander went first with Anya huddled behind him. He walked up to the casket and looked in at the drained face that used to be Buffy. He didn't say anything at all. His eyes, red and blood shot, closed as he shook his head in defiance. Without a word he stormed back to his seat, shoving the others roughly out of his way. Anya stayed a moment more, whispering a teary "Goodbye Buffy." before following him.
Tara wished not to see her. She said she had seen enough death, and that she wanted to keep the image of Buffy as she had remembered her: happy and alive, so Giles and Willow went up together.
"Giles, no!" Willow sobbed, grabbing his shirt when she saw Buffy's face. "What's going on?! Why is this happening?" she cried uncontrollably. Giles only held her in his arms, and stared unblinkingly with fear and horror at the remnants of his Slayer. 'God, if only she would just open her bloody eyes, I could wake up from this nightmare…" he thought. When she didn't, he felt the seams of his composer beginning to tear, but then he remembered Dawn. 'You have to be strong for Dawn.' He reminded himself.
"God! Buffy!" Willow howled. Giles turned her slowly and carefully away from her dead friend, and they made their way back to the chairs. Giles felt a wave of nausea rush upon him and he put his head in his hands. Dawn stood up, but didn't move. She felt Spike come up behind her.
"Go ahead niblit…" he whispered with a voice like gravel.
"No…" she replied softly. "I can't…" Giles came up and put his hand on her back. "It's ok Dawn…I can come with you if—"
"I can't see her well from here…" she interrupted. " I mean I can't tell…She's…maybe it's not her…maybe it's someone else…but if I go up there…then it's really her…and she's really gone."
"Sweety, you don't have to go." Tara said sadly to her. 'If it's too much for you that's totally ok." But Dawn was moving. She slowed when Buffy's features came into crystal clear view. She looked down at the body. Its hair was half pinned back, it was wearing the green shirt and black pants with Spike's necklace around its throat, and its arms were crossed over its chest. Dawn looked and looked for her sister, but all that was left was this dead meat. It was strange, she thought, how the body's skin could be yellow and gray at the same time, even with all that makeup, and how the unnatural red lipstick offset the sunken caves of its eyes. Dawn became numb from the neck down.
"This is not happening…" she said almost inaudibly through gritted teeth. "This is not happening…This is not happening…This is NOT happening!" She screeched, crumpling to the ground. Spike made a break for her but Giles got there first, cradling her in his arms as she wailed. Everybody looked down with despair.
When Dawn was calmed down, Spike took his turn to say goodbye. He came up slowly, watching the body with shock.
"S-slayer…" he said quietly, nodding his head to her. He stood for a moment, not moving, then he reached out a shaking hand, and stroked, ever so lightly, the hair along side her face, tracing it from cheek to chin. "God…What did they do to you?" he asked, unable to ignore how unnatural she looked. He looked to his feet. Tears appeared under his lids, and his lip quivered. He looked to her face again, trying stubbornly to hold it in. "Buffy…I shoulda been better…" he whispered shakily. "I shoulda been…I shoulda done something." he cried with frustration, surveying her body with wide, frantic, eyes. "I should have saved you." He said, clenching his jaw and fists. The need to go back in time and redo those last few moments was so fierce it made his chest ache as though it might cave in. The tone of his voice became high and strangled as he wept. "I'm sorry…God…I'm sorry…Buffy, I'm so sorry."
The others watched the vampire from their seats, and for the first time felt real pity for him. Even Xander looked upon him with soft and hurting eyes. Spike's hands rested on the side of the casket and his head was bent. His shoulders shook up and down steadily. No one heard a sound, but his shoulders kept heaving, and they didn't stop for a long time.