Soon after, the casket lid was closed, and the remaining scoobies watched as Buffy was lowered into the ground. They stayed for quite some time after the last shovel of dirt was placed, and then one by one, dropped away. Xander and Anya left silently, without saying goodbye, and when she threw up in the bushes, Tara dragged a weary but protesting Willow home as well. Giles was ready to leave, and began to collect Dawn, but she stubbornly refused.
"I want to stay." She said angrily.
"I'll see 'er home safe n sound." Spike said when Giles gently urged her to cooperate. Exhausted, he complied, giving Dawn a long kiss on the forehead before leaving.
Spike and Dawn stood silently side-by-side for almost half an hour.
"It's not real." Dawn said finally. The air was icy and bitter, and it blew her hair around in erratic spirals, but she didn't feel it at all. Spike didn't move…didn't reply. "It can't be real." She said again, grabbing Spike's hand and squeezing as hard as she could. "Please, tell me it's not real!" He didn't squeeze back. He didn't even look at her. He just continued to stare at the stone in front of him.
"It is real." He answered later. "Buffy's gone…and she's not coming back."
"No…" she cried in denial, grabbing him frantically by the arms, and forcing him to look at her. "Lie to me…God, lie to me, please…" She begged with her eyes. He only stared back at her, his face unreadable. She dipped her head, hiding her tears behind the dancing strands of brown. Spike took her arms tentatively in his hands.
"Hey…" he said quietly in an attempt to be comforting.
Buggering sprig. He thought to himself. He cursed her for being able to stir such stupid, pathetic, and utterly human emotions inside him. Only she could make him feel this way. Well, Buffy was the original culprit, but Dawn was something different. Spike had been in love with Buffy, but a person doesn't choose to be in love, and love doesn't care if you are a vampire or a slayer. It seeks you out, makes you helpless, and controls you. This caring for the little girl, on the other hand, thrived from an essence all its own. Dawn had the ability to make his heart break, melt with compassion, and explode with love, except this time there was no hypnotic, ever-allusive power to blame it on. It unnerved him terribly. He should want to suck her body dry and watch her face as she screamed. Instead, she was the only real reason that he had now for existing.
'What in bloody Hell has happened to me?' he wondered with resignation. He looked out to the cemetery and then back at Dawn.
"We will survive this." He whispered intensely, searching for her wet eyes. "I promise you…somehow…" His voice was low and rough. She looked up at him suddenly, and wrapped her arms around him, clinging to his cold body.
"How?!" she cried desperately into his chest. He stood awkwardly for a moment with his arms wavering in the air, not knowing quite what to do. Eventually they stumbled their way about her own small frame. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes, feeling the softness of her hair brush his face.
"I don't know, Dawn." He replied, looking down at the mound of dirt with lost eyes. "I don't know."