Tired. Hollow. Lost.
Though weak from Glory's mental violation, Tara did her best to support Willow's weight. The red-haired witch barely had the will to stand; walking was asking a lot of her wearied body. Xander and Anya had gone home for the night. Willow silently wondered if Anya thought this was the perfect opportunity for pity sex. Immediately, she scolded herself and wiped away the last of her tears. A block away from Revello, and her tears had simply run out. She almost wished she could continue to cry. Then, at least, she wouldn't feel so empty.
How far from Giles' will they be right now?
Picturing the stoic father again in her mind, she knew that Giles would be awake the entire night. Spike and Dawn accompanied him back to his house, but Giles demanded that he carry Buffy to his home. There had to be a wake. He had to watch over her. Take care of her. One last time.
Will Dawn want to stay home tonight?
Willow knew that eventually Spike would make Dawn come home. They were probably on their way. Maybe only ten minutes behind. Maybe only five.
The house looked a lot bigger than it did the last time she was there. The overhangs seemed to loom over Willow and her lover, threatening to swallow them into their emptiness. They were going in the front door anyway, so it wouldn't have made much difference. Gently pushing Tara away, Willow decided she had to walk the last few steps of her own strength. She grasped Tara's hand and climbed the first step.
"And give my love to my friends."
Another step.
"You have to be strong."
One more.
"Be brave. Live."
The door swung open to reveal a silence. Willow didn't remember ever locking it. Buffy was always there to be their deadbolt and booby trap all-in-one. Everything looked so…normal. It was all perfect. Of course, there was the odd piece of furniture, too beaten to repair, but that was usual for the Summers house. The rooms remained just as Buffy had left them. Willow kept her hands to herself, too afraid to touch anything. Too afraid to erase the imprint left behind. Her stomach growled. Breakfast-time arrived. Stale smells wafted from the kitchen as every step brought her closer. Too old bread. Clumpy milk. Chewy potato chips, exposed to the open air for far too long.
She gasped as she heard the front door softly close. Looking back to the small foyer, Willow watched as Dawn led Spike by the hand. He was a lost child, too. Dawn sat him at the dining table and whispered something in his ear. He sat in the shadows of dawn's birth, long stilled in memorial of a fallen warrior. The last Summers woman staggered toward the kitchen. Half-acknowledging the witches' presence, she turned on the faucet and washed the blood from her hands. Summers blood. A red light blinked in the distance, catching Dawn's attention, and Willow followed her to the answering machine. One push. One imprint erased.
"Hey, it's Dawn and Buffy! We're not home right now…" Some shuffling in the background. "Buffy, you said I could say part of the message!" Impatient grunting. "Ugh, fine. You say the 'leave a message' part." Squeals of joy. "Leave a…" Beep!
Dawn smiled, relishing in the memory. It would fade with time, she realized.
"Buffy…Dawn…It's Angel."
His soft voice wafted from the speaker. So pained, but so soothing.
"Um…I'm sorry that this couldn't wait…u-until you got back home, I mean. Something happened. To Cordelia. And Wesley and I—we have to find her, and I don't know if we'll be back. When we'll be back." A knocked sounded in the background. "Angel, Lorne's back. He's found the hotspot." Angel cleared his throat. Footsteps grew fainter. "Well, I guess…Dawn, take care of yourself. High school is…is…just be careful. You really are a little sister to me. And Buffy, I can't say anything that you don't already know. I'll call if…when we make it back. Take care." Click.
The front door opened and shut again with a slam. Spike's seat was empty. Dawn blinked away a tear and looked up at Willow. Desperation, pleading flowed from Dawn's tired eyes, and Willow could almost hear her silent wishing.
Please…Please…I can't say it. I can't ask. Please…
Willow nodded and trudged slowly upstairs. There would be a small funeral in a few days. Quiet. Family only—and Angel, if he made it back in time. If not, then she would have a flight to catch.