Laid to Rest
The group trudged wearily through the graveyard. It had taken some thought, but they had finally decided on the perfect site for her grave. Mostly, they were still in shock. The same haunting question floated through all of their minds: What would they do now? She had been the focus of most of their activities for the past five years. Less than that for some, more for others. It was the same, however, for all. They had all been Buffy's friends; her death affected them in untold ways.
It was night, of course. It was the only way that they could include all the participants. The mist seeped over every surface. The tombstones themselves seemed to be the source of the cold blanket. The darkness was oppressive. Along with the recent events and the current setting, it made the picture of the group's entire life. Being a cemetery, it also signified their deaths. They had come for a reason, but it was an act of necessity, not of goodwill. With the exception of one, their entourage would have given anything to not need to be there.
That one was Spike. It wasn't that he wished Buffy were dead. He was there carrying the coffin along with Giles and Xander. His vampire strength was more than enough to carry one side. But the rest of them—Willow, Tara, Anya, and especially Dawn—would have had Buffy back in an instant. But Spike...his relationship with her had always been different. Surely he would gladly have her alive and hating him rather than the present moment, but they had always known that s Slayer was not often likely to live past twenty. They had hoped for an exception, to no avail. One could not change fate. Spike was the only one old enough to realize this fully.
Long after she had been committed to the earth, and the others had departed, Spike stayed by her grave. A graveyard was where he fit in. A coffin was an even better place. She didn't deserve it. After long years of fighting underworld beings, she ended up in the one place where they most belonged. It was not fair. It was beneath her. But such was destiny.
Some time later, Spike felt a presence behind him. Although he knew perfectly well who it was, he turned halfway towards the other. "I didn't think you were going to show up"
Angel walked forward to stand beside him. "I wasn't. I—I thought it would be too hard. But...I couldn't just stay away." He turned to face Spike. "I mean, it's Buffy."
Spike nodded. "It'll always be Buffy."
Angel turned back to the tombstone. "I heard...that you...her...." He trailed of, awkwardly.
"Yeah, I did," Spike flared. "What of it, mate?"
"Nothin'," Angel sighed. "It's just that the two people who cared about the Slayer most would turn out to be vampires. Ironic and sad at the same time."
"Yeah," Spike agreed, in a softer tone, "but how can we choose how we feel?" They both gazed sadly at the tombstone. "You were the lucky one. At least she didn't hate you so much that you tried to stake yourself."
Angel started to nod in agreement, then stopped and stared at Spike. "You tried to stake yourself?"
"Well, it was for a different occasion, but I thought it fit."
"You don't change, Spike."
"You know it."
There they stood, side-by-side, two of the world's most renowned vampires mourning for the lost Slayer. Daylight found them gone, departed to darker places to wait out the time in which their beloved had spent most of her days. A time to which she would never again visit. She was like them, in that way.
Sunlight streamed over the tombstone, which simply read:
Buffy Anne Summers
1981-2001
Devoted Sister
Beloved Friend
She Saved The World
A Lot