Rating: PG
Feedback: That would be very nice, thank you. Melpomenethalia@aol.com
Spoilers: Through season 5's finale, "The Gift"
Distribution: Here. If you're interested, please let me know.
Summary: Buffy's still dead. So are Dru, William and Darla.
Disclaimer: All characters are owned by Mutant Enemy (Joss Whedon), a wonderfully creative company whose characters I have borrowed for a completely profit-free flight of fancy. Kindly do not sue me, please, as I am terrified of you. Thank you.
Part 13The tread of footsteps on the grass was heard approaching through the dense brush surrounding the site. Buffy was startled to realize that she was not to be buried next to her mother, nor in any of the other cemetaries she had patrolled, but it took her a moment to understand why. Of course. Her death needed to be kept secret from the very demons that were most likely to frequent cemetaries. Still, she couldn't help thinking, this can't exactly be legal, can it?
The first figures to enter her line of vision were Willow, Dawn, and Tara. Her sister looked like a complete wreck, her eyes bloodshot and her steps unsteady from the dizziness caused by her blood loss from that night. She was barely being held up by the two other girls, one grasping an arm on either side of her, Tara's expression one of deep sympathy and somehow reminiscent of Buffy's mother during her kindest moments, and Willow patting Dawn's back gently, murmuring words that came out hoarsely from a voice that had obviously been rendered raw through crying. Buffy made a move to go towards her sister automatically, but Drusilla gripped her waist a little tighter.
"Dearie, it might be best to wait. William did explain that they can't hear or see you, yes?"
Buffy gave a curt nod, annoyed at being stopped.
"The strange thing is, though, that a few of them might be able to sense you if you're very close. If you were to approach Dawn too abruptly, it might frighten or confuse her. Take your time, Buffy."
"Yeah," Darla put in. "The kid might flip if you just come storming up on her. Take it slow."
"Thanks," she said, glad that they'd managed to stop her. She suddenly noticed how unusual that was. Apparently, Slayer strength didn't really count on this end of things. Of couse, she didn't exactly have a body anymore, so that made sense.
By this time, the three mortals were standing beside the open grave, and behind them came a larger, slower group. Her coffin was being carried foreward by four bearers. The first two who were visible were Giles and Xander, walking beside eachother, their faces strained. Xander's eyes were very red, and he was obviously trying hard not to cry.
Buffy's eyes brimmed with tears at the sight of her friend in such turmoil, but it was Giles who actually made her cry in earnest. The man was crushed. He seemed to have aged fifteen years in a day. His face was haggard and covered in a fine mist of stubble. Most frightening, though, were his shoulders that sagged into a posture that Buffy had never seen him have before. He looked defeated. With a small sob, she buried her face in Drusilla's neck as Darla wrapped her arms around the pair of them and William gently took Buffy's hands in his.
When Buffy recovered enough to look up once more, the casket was almost directly in front of her, and she was stunned to see that the final two who carried her were Spike and Angel walking side by side, looks of grim determination etched on their faces. Spike's gash from his fall off the tower was dressed, and judging by the slightly haphazard bandage it had been the work of Dawn. His eyes were glued to the grass, and she saw him biting his lip in an effort not to break down.
Angel, on the other hand, was staring directly ahead, his posture absolutely perfect, almost military, as though he was committed to bearing this burden with the utmost respect. Despite his proud carriage, tears flowed swiftly down his cheeks from his unblinking brown eyes, and there was a hollowness in his gaze that spoke volumes of his grief for her.
Behind them, following the casket, were Cordelia, looking an interesting combination of depressed and annoyed, Anya, whose injured arm was in a sling, Wesley, his head bowed politely, an African-American man she didn't know who appeared to be feeling a bit out of place, an unknown dark-haired woman who kept jumping at the slightest noise, and…
"Harmony?" she asked in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, hi!" the spirit called in an inappropriately loud voice as she waved. "I heard everyone was going to your funeral, so I just thought I'd, you know, come along. See what everyone's wearing. Check out the flowers they got you. That sort of stuff."
Buffy shot William a look that was very close to total bafflement, and he shrugged apologetically, then whispered as quietly as possible in her ear, "Ehm, death doesn't necessarily make the deceased any smarter."
Buffy found herself stifling a laugh during her own funeral.
Harmony, wearing a flamboyant dress made of a yellow and green geometric print, remained standing with the mourners, examining them closely.
"Don't you just hate Cordy's new hair? Ugh, the other me didn't want to say anything when she saw her in L.A., but whew, major fashion faux pas. Angel must not be paying her very much if she's wearing those shoes out in public, either. They are so two seasons ago," she babbled on. "I didn't meet the new girl; what's with her burlap dress?"
Buffy seemed to have developed a sudden bad cough while Darla stared at the ditz with a look of blatant disbelief written in bold letters across her face. Drusilla's eyes had widened so much they seemed to be threatening to join above her nose.
"Harmony, could you do us a favor?" Darla asked tersely. "Could you just please put a sock in it?"
Harmony good-naturedly made a little key-turning-and-tossing-away motion around her mouth and directed her attention to the service. At least, she seemed to. It may have been that she was silently critiquing the wardrobe of everyone present one by one. In any case, she remained quiet as the funeral began.
The pallbearers carefully lowered her casket to the ground, stepping back, as Giles stood at its head. Buffy looked at the brown, wooden box that sat before her, trying to comprehend that her body was inside it.
"Xander made it himself. He worked all night," Drusilla explained.
Buffy's hand reached out to touch the wood, but her palm just slipped through it like water. It must have been horrible, she thought, having to build this for me. She looked at Xander once more with pity in her eyes.
Giles began to speak in a voice that carried to all those present, although it was very difficult for him to do.
"We each hold memories of Buffy in our hearts that we treasure, and that's as it should be. What's wrong is that there should be more of them: far more," he spoke, his voice cracking slightly on the last word. Willow rubbed his forearm. "I didn't want this duty, ever, but as her Watcher, I knew there was a strong chance that I would have to bury my Slayer someday. Buffy survived far longer than the Council ever thought she would. When I was first given this assignment, they told me to expect it to last no longer than six months at the outside. Of the Slayers in recorded history, Buffy wound up surviving longer than all but five."
"It still wasn't long enough," Dawn said bitterly.
"No, no it wasn't," Giles agreed sadly. "I was supposed to see her as nothing but a warrior, but that was impossible for me. She was far more than that. As time passed, I loved her as deeply as I would have my own child." His composure broke, and his tears felt like they were burning a hole in Buffy's heart. "And I had a father's pride in her."
William gripped her hand all the more tightly as another sob wrenched itself from Buffy. Giles was staring at the casket, lost, unable to continue. As one, Spike and Angel both went to him, and in the midst of their pain, the three men who had loved her best clung to one another, drawing strength from each other, forgetting, at least for the moment, their past hatreds and feuds and becoming united in their moment of grief.
"I don't know if I can stay here," Buffy brokenly murmured. "I don't know if I can do it. They're in such pain."
Drusilla touched her cheek as she said, "Yes, Buffy. They are. To love someone as deeply as they loved you is to open themselves up to pain, but there isn't one of them who regrets loving you so much or isn't the better for it. Look at them with your other eyes. See what it is that you've helped each of them to become. It may comfort you."
William gave her an encouraging pat on the back, and Buffy shut her eyes, opening them on the same scene once again, but seeing things from the level of her spirit. She was almost dazzled by the brilliance before her.
Willow's soul reached out over the whole group like a fog of light, joined closely with Tara's, whose gentle radiance reminded Buffy of sunlight on a summer afternoon. Giles's soul was like a beacon in the night, unwavering and strong. Xander appeared as a steady stream of luminousness, as did all the other humans, including Anya. Buffy had wondered if the ex-demon had a soul now, and the question was answered with a definite yes. Even Cordelia cast a glow around them all.
"She gets my vote for most improved," Darla said approvingly. "She wasn't so much to look at until about a year ago."
There were three others that were obviously different. The first two were the vampires. Spike was still a grey shape, but light kept spiraling through him, sometimes softly diffusing his whole body with a faint light, sometimes concentrating itself around the areas of his heart and brain and gaining in intensity. Angel, on the other hand, looked like he was in the midst of a battle. His entire soul was present, but so was his demon, and they seemed to keep trying to swallow one another. The effect was strange, like a never-ending kaleidoscope of light and dark, and Buffy marveled at his ability to keep waging the war for so long.
The third unusual case was Dawn, who glowed as brightly as all the others, but there was something strange about her. Bouncing around inside her soul like a tennis ball was a single, neon green sphere.
"Is that… that's the key?" Buffy asked in disbelief. "It looks like it was made by Nerf!"
"Don't let its appearance fool you. It was every bit as powerful as you've been told. It's dormant now. Had Glory opened that portal, it would have expanded to cover everything in the universe as you knew it. We, actually, would have been safe. There are some things not even it could destroy. But it would have done horrible damage to countless realities," William explained.
Buffy continued to gaze at her sister, and a very strange thing started to happen. Suddenly, she began to remember bits of her life from before the monks had created Dawn. She found herself having two, separate, distinctly different sets of memories: one that included Dawn and one that didn't. The effect was overwhelming. It wasn't that her sister appeared any less real to her, but she could recall all the scenes of her existence that had been written over before.
"You're remembering, aren't you?" Darla said pointedly.
"Yeah," Buffy said in amazement. "I can remember everything now."
"Everything?" William's voice asked in a tone that suggested there might be more to this than she first thought.
On an unknown instinct, Buffy turned her eyes towards the figure of Angel's embattled soul. It was then that the second set of erased memories slammed into her so hard that she hit the ground. There weren't as many this time: only a single day.