It was cloudy. Oppressive. Any moment, it was going to rain.
Perfect weather for saying goodbye.
No one was certain if that was intentional or accidental on Ororo's part.
They stood, all of them, in a semi-circle around the foot of the open grave, staring at the casket waiting to be lowered, none of them speaking.
As soon as someone spoke, there would be no turning back. It would be real.
Buffy Summers would be dead.
Dawn stood between Scott and Spike, the latter being able to stand in the open due to the overcast sky. Tears had been running down her cheeks all morning, but she had not actually cried since her breakdown in the basement. She had, however, insisted on a closed casket funeral. Vehemently. She wanted to remember a living Buffy, not the leftover shell they were going to lower into the ground. Someone, she couldn't remember who, put a wooden box on the living room table, inviting everyone to put a memento, or a letter, or anything they wanted it. It would be tucked into the casket before the funeral. It was gone when she got ready this morning.
The funeral director had been fully understanding of the need for privacy in this situation, so he had shown Giles and Nicholas how to run the machinery needed, and then simply set everything up without a fuss. He was now having coffee with the caretaker in the small work shed at the front of the cemetery, waiting for the party to finish.
And still, no one said anything.
Giles was preparing for the inevitable, and had just started getting ready to say something, when Xander tugged at his sleeve, and pointed to the east.
"What's going on there?" the younger man asked.
Giles followed Xander's arm and saw a group of eight policemen coming over the hill towards them. Seven of them were carrying rifles on their shoulders. The eighth, leading the group, carried a small box in his hands.
"Some kind of trouble?" Xander asked.
"I don't think so," the Watcher replied, "Those are dress uniforms."
At this point, the others had noticed the procession. They watched as the one in front of the group of officers, who had more stars on his collar than the others, approached Dawn. The remaining seven formed a rough semi-circle at the top of the grave. They stood there at parade rest, one arm behind their backs, the other holding onto the barrel of the rifle they carried, resting the stock of the weapon on the ground.
"Ms. Summers," the ranking officer said, "I'm Police Commissioner John McCrate. On behalf of the Sunnydale Police Department, I wish to present this to you in honor of your sister, Buffy, to acknowledge the work she did." He flipped the top of the box open, and then held it out to her.
Dawn's hands shook slightly as she took the box and looked into it. Inside, sitting on a velvet cushion, was a medal, hanging from a ribbon of blue. The medallion itself was round, with laurel leaves on the sides, with the words "For Valor" and "Police Department: City of Sunnydale" engraved around the image of the city seal. At the very bottom was "Buffy Summers: 2001"
She looked up at the commissioner with fresh tears in her eyes.
"You knew?" she asked.
"Some of us," he answered, "Some of us."
"Thank you," she whispered.
McCrate took a step backwards and raised his right hand to the brim of his hat in salute. Dawn stood straight, and returned the gesture. McCrate then spun around and took his place with the remaining officers.
Dawn looked at the medal for a moment longer before closing the box. She then looked over at Giles.
"I'm ready now," she said softly, and walked over to the casket.
She ran her hand over the polished wood, thinking, not thinking.
"I'll remember what you told me," she said, "I'll remember what you've done. I'll remember every…" her voice broke, and then she collected herself. "I'll remember everything. I miss you already. I love you." As she walked back to her spot, Xander and Anya came forward.
"Hey, Buff," Xander whispered, "Just wanted you to be the first to know, me and Anya, we're getting married."
Anya sobbed quietly, then added "I wish you could be here for it." Her contribution to the box had been a hastily scribbled invitation.
"Goodbye," they both said. "We'll keep up the fight," Xander added. Then they turned and walked back to the group.
Willow and Tara came next. Willow was shaking so badly that Tara had to half carry her to the side of the casket. It was too much for the red headed witch, and she broke into hysterical sobs with Tara holding her tightly.
Tara herself glanced briefly at the casket and mouthed, "Blessed be, travel well, Goddess guide you," before escorting her love back over to the group.
Giles then walked up. He couldn't think of anything to say. Nothing at all. This isn't the way things were supposed to work. Daughters bury their father, not the other way around. She was supposed to be teasing him about his stuffiness when he was old and gray and sharing tea with him and…and…and…
Steady on, old man, he told himself. The others need you to be strong yet. Once things are going, then you can break down.
But you really should have told her…
"I love you," he whispered. "And I am so very, very proud of the woman you grew into. Rest in peace, my brave, wonderful girl."
As he left the graveside, Angel took his place, Cordelia and Wesley right behind him. The vampire said nothing, just ran his hand over the top of the casket, before returning to the crowd.
"Goodbye," said Cordelia, "And, thank you." her eyes showing tears, as she walked past.
"Godspeed, Buffy" whispered Wesley. "Godspeed."
Spike walked up, tears running unashamedly down his face. He kissed his fingertips and placed them once on the top of the casket, gently.
"'Till the end of the world," he whispered.
Scott and Jean came up then.
"I just want to tell you that I love you," Scott said. "I'll take care of Dawn. Always."
Professor Xavier and the remaining X-Men came up at that point, Henry pushing the Professor's wheelchair.
"We'll all take care of your family, Buffy," he said softly, the others quietly speaking agreement. "All of them." One by one, they returned to the circle, whispering condolences to Scott, or just letting him know they were there. Some paused and whispered a word or two over the coffin. Finally, Scott and Jean themselves returned to the group.
Alexis looked over at Spencer, then at Nicholas, and nodded. Together they walked up to the foot of the grave. Nicholas opened a bottle of wine he'd been carrying. Tabouli walked right next to her mistress, and sat by her feet by the grave.
"Sé nú! Ek sé thar minn fedhr," he said raising the bottle and pouring some onto the ground.
"What was that, some kind of spell?" Xander started.
"Hush!" Anya whispered, just loud enough for the others to hear, wanting to make sure everyone understood. "It's Old Norse. It's a prayer."
Meanwhile, Nicholas had taken a drink from the bottle and passed it to Alexis.
"Sé nú! Ek sé thar mína módhr, ok minna systr, ok minna broedhr," she said, also pouring some wine onto the ground. She then handed the bottle to Spencer.
"Sé nú! Ek sé thar hringana af mínu kyni frá upphafi," Spencer said, pouring. He then took his own drink, and held the bottle out in front of Alexis. She and Nicholas in turn reached out and placed their hands around the bottle as well.
"Sé nú! Their kalla mik," they chanted. "Their bidjamk koma at theim í Folkvang, hvar ballridhar allan aldr búask um."
"What does it mean?" Dawn asked as they poured the remaining wine.
"Oh," Anya said, "They just asked Freya to take Buffy in, that's all. Made a gift of wine so She'd take notice. Probably a better idea then Valhalla, really. I think Freya would like Buffy."
"Huh?" Xander said.
"Freya," Anya told him, "Goddess of love, wealth, sex and battle. Splits the battle dead with Odin, and she gets first pick."
"So the Norse Gods," Xander said hesitantly, "They're real?"
Anya looked at him as though he had just asked the stupidest question she had ever heard.
"I'll fill you in later," she said, returning her attention to the gravesite.
Once Alexis, Spencer, and Nicholas had returned to their places, Commissioner McCrate stepped forward again.
"Ms. Summers," he said, "With your permission?"
Dawn nodded at him. He then turned to the remaining officers.
"Company!" he barked.
Seven officers as one went from parade rest to full attention.
"Stand by Ready!" McCrate commanded.
Seven rifles were pulled up and around into firing position.
"Ready!"
Seven safety bolts were released.
"Fire!"
Seven shots rang out. Seven spent shells were ejected. Seven fresh shells were loaded. Each step took on a meaning of its own.
"Fire!"
Seven shots rang out again. Seven more empty shells flew out to the right of the riflemen. Seven bolts were once more driven home.
"Fire!"
And the final seven shots echoed into the distance.
"Stand Down!"
And seven rifles returned to resting position.
McCrate turned to Dawn and once again saluted. Once she had returned the salute, the officers fell into formation and returned the same way they came.
Slowly, the remaining group started making their way out of the cemetery. Giles hesitated a moment, and looked over at Nicholas.
"I'll get it," Nicholas said softly, "You go with them, I'll be there shortly."
Giles nodded his appreciation, and walked with Dawn and Spike out of the small grove.
Once he was alone in the grove, Nicholas pulled out his cell phone and called the caretakers shed.
"We're done," he said, triggering the mechanism that would lower the casket into the grave. "You can come up and finish now." He listed for a moment, then said: "Thanks," before hanging up.
"Damn shame," said a voice from behind him.
Nicholas recognized the voice.
"It always is when you loose the good ones, Fury," he responded. His visitor stepped up beside him.
"I guess we all end up like this in the end, huh?" Fury asked him as he scooped up a handful of dirt and tossed it on top of the casket.
"Slayers have an even shorter life expectancy then spies," Nicholas said. "Why are you really here?"
Fury turned and looked at him with his one good eye.
"I wanted to check up on you," he said, "Could have called, but I wanted to pay my respects." He gestured to the grave, "She was one of a kind."
"That she was," Nicholas agreed. "I'll have some information for you when I get back to Westchester."
"Email it to the Cayman Island server." Fury replied, touching his belt. As he disappeared, he said, "Just in case."
Nicholas looked one more time at the grave. He could see the caretaker and funeral director walking up in the distance.
"At least you get to rest now," he whispered. Then he turned to follow the others.
********
Alexis turned as Angel called out her name.
"Could we talk for a minute?" he asked, starting to slow down his walking.
She in turn looked over at Spencer, who was escorting her back to the cars.
"Why don't you check with Spike about that project?" she asked. "I'll be along."
Spencer leaned over and kissed her cheek, then started jogging lightly to catch up with Spike, Dawn and Giles.
"So…?" Alexis started, matching Angel's slow walk.
Seeing that the rest of the group had indeed moved on a bit further, Angel turned and looked at her.
"I've been thinking about what you told me last night," he started, "And I wanted to get some more information from you."
Alexis paled slightly.
"Ooohkay," she started. "Like what?"
"You said that the demon does something with the super-ego, or something like that. I.." he broke for a second, deciding what he was really asking. "What exactly did you mean?"
She sighed, and stopped walking.
"About that," she said, "See, the thing is, you weren't talking to me at that point."
Angel turned and looked at her, the question clear in his face.
"I remember saying that you can't separate the soul from the body, and then asking you if you were ready to eat some crow. Everything else," she shrugged her shoulders, "Not me."
"What…?"
"It's probably best if you don't have all the details," Alexis interrupted. "Let's just say that it's not my favorite part of the deal I have with the Lady, but on the other hand, she usually gives pretty good advice."
Angel started walking again, and Alexis kept pace with him.
"Okay," he said, "So then Angelus really is a part of me."
"Something tells me you already knew that."
"Yeah," he sighed. "But I always had that little bit of denial to hide behind. This is going to take some serious thinking."
"Great, just what you need. More brood-fodder," she teased. At his look she added, "Why don't you take a vacation? Sort a few things out before you jump back into the LA nightlife?"
"I can't just take…" he started.
"Sure you can," she said. "Look, your mind is not going to be ready to fight again until you come to terms with a few things. Buffy's death among them. Everybody needs down time every so often. Take a break, go somewhere that you've never been, work some things out, and then you'll be able to get back into it with a clear head."
"What about the agency? Wes, Cordy?" he asked.
"I'll make you a deal," she replied, looping her arm through his, "You take a couple of months off. Go to Tibet or somewhere equally unreachable. I'll stick around in LA and help out your crew."
"Wesley's crew," Angel reminded her.
"Right," she said, "I mean, Nicholas is already working on something else, and I think Spencer is about to find himself a project here. I've already got the experience needed, and I'd love to help out."
"Why?" he asked earnestly.
"I promised I would," she answered. "However I can." She stopped walking and looked up at him.
"Deal?" she asked.
Angel said nothing for a moment, thinking about it.
"If Wes agrees," he finally answered.
"Let's go find out."
********
"Okay," Spencer said, looking up briefly from the schematics he was studying. "It can be done, but we're talking about some major modifications here."
"I can handle the reprogramming," Willow stated, looking over his shoulder, "What else do we need."
Spencer looked at the faces around the table. He had called in Giles, Xander, Willow, and Spike to discuss the possibility of using the robot to create the illusion of Buffy still being alive and well. Giles had come up with the idea, and Nicholas had suggested his brother take a look at it. But when Spencer had gotten a good look at the blueprints, he realized that there was a lot of work to be done.
"Well, to start," Spencer said, "We've got to re-enforce the entire skeletal structure." He pointed to the shoulder joints, and then to the hips on the diagrams. "Not to mention needing some micro-motors with a lot more balls than these units. I mean, we're trying to pass this thing off as the Slayer? One vampire, okay. Two, maybe. Three or more, the structure's going to start folding. Without some work, this 'bot'll be in for major repairs two, maybe three times a week. And that's if we're lucky!" He returned his gaze to the blueprints. "This thing was not built for combat. What the hell was it for?"
Looking around the table, he noticed that none of the Sunnydale crew would meet his eyes, then he noticed that Spike was actually blushing.
"Oh, Loki's left nut…." He whispered. "Okay," he said in a normal volume, "I think we can do this, but I'm going to need at least a week."
"From what we've been able to determine," Giles spoke up, "Most of the more intelligent demons left Sunnydale when Glory started her quest. It seems none of them wanted to chance getting in her way."
"Word that she's gone will get out," stated Xander.
"Yes, but not for a bit," Giles said. "I think we can probably hold down the fort for a week or so."
"Good," said Spencer, "Then I just need to clear staying here for a bit with Alexis…"
"Not a problem," Alexis told him, walking into the kitchen, Tabouli draped once again around her neck. "You can join me in Los Angeles when you've finished here." She came over and stood at the table. "Angel has decided to take a…sabbatical. Get his head wrapped around a few things. I offered to stay in LA and help out the crew."
"What about your own firm?" Giles asked.
"Rose Shepard, our office manager, practically runs the place these days anyway. The three of us are hardly ever really needed." She turned to Spencer, "I'll tell her to have Tricia bring out some clothes and such, for both of us, and Megara I think." Tabouli turned and gave an indignant sniff at that, jumping off of her mistress' shoulder and returning to the living room.
"You're too temperamental for field work!" Alexis shouted after her. "Well, she is!" she added to the others. "The idea of getting a paw dirty has her sulking for a week."
"Okay then," Xander said, "What do we need?"
"I think I can get us some working materials," Spencer said. "I'll need to make a call."
"Stark?" asked Alexis.
"Yup," Spencer confirmed. "We're still talking, and I left on good terms. If he's got some extra stuff laying around, I'm sure he'll let me have it."
"Waitaminute," said Willow, "You mean Tony Stark? As in Stark Industries?"
"One and the same," said Spencer, folding the blueprints back up. "I worked with him in the early days of the Irontech project. I'll give him a call tomorrow."
"Cool," sighed Willow.
"Yes, ah, well then," Giles picked up, "I'd suggest we end this for now. Spencer, I'd like to invite you to stay at my apartment while you're in town."
"Gracias," Spencer said.
"Maybe we should join the others," Willow said, "I mean, Dawn's leaving tomorrow…" She caught herself, the reality of the situation sinking in once again. Xander reached over and squeezed her arm, brining her attention to him.
"Good idea," he said. Together the two walked into the living room.
Alexis wrapped her arm through Spencer's.
"C'mon, lover," she said. "If we're going to be apart for a while, I want to take a walk."
Spencer grinned and the two walked out towards the front door.
"Spike," Giles called out, "Might I speak with you for a moment?" He gestured to the back porch.
Spike stood and opened the refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of beer and looking questioningly at the Watcher, who nodded. Grabbing a second bottle he stood up.
"Yeah," he said, "Could use a smoke anyway."
As they stepped outside, a slight breeze picked up, blowing away the last bit of heat from the day. Spike, true to his word, immediately lit up a cigarette.
"So then," he said, exhaling, "This is the 'Take good care of Dawn or I stake you' speech?"
"No," Giles said, taking a drink of his beer, "I don't need to have that speech with you. Buffy trusted you to take care of Dawn, and I will trust her judgment in the matter." He turned and looked directly at Spike. "Looking back on the last week or so, I would even venture so far as to say I concur."
"However," he continued, "I do want you to keep a very close eye on her."
"Are you expecting something?"
"I'm not entirely sure," Giles sighed. He sat on the top step, and Spike joined him, offering a smoke more out of habit than anything. He was a bit surprised when Giles took the offered cigarette, and gestured for a light.
"What then?" Spike asked, flicking his Zippo to life. The Watcher leaned over and puffed the cigarette to life.
"I suspect that Dawn's origins may yet have some… impact on her." he said.
"Her bein' the Key, you mean?"
"Exactly." Giles took another drag. "Nicholas informed me that Doc's body wasn't at the tower, he's likely still out there. And there may be others who are aware of the existence of the Key. Be on guard for such things." He turned to look at the vampire again. "I'm also a bit worried that no human body can fully contain the amount of energy that she has."
"Well, that's technically a Slayer body she has, right? Won't that help?" Spike was starting to worry about this.
"I don't think that Dawn's in any immediate danger," Giles said, sensing the rising anxiety. "However, there may be other…side effects."
"Such as…?"
"I have no idea," Giles admitted. "I just want you to be ready for anything. And to feel free to contact me about anything that you think might be wrong, immediately. Day or night."
"I will, I promise," Spike said.
The two men sat in silence, finishing their beer.