Chapter 3: The Message
In which information is shared. Among some. And mostly complete.

They were sitting in the dark dining room of the Hyperion. It was an ex-scoobies-only deal; Gunn had shown Fred to her room and then made himself busy in the office, leaving them to talk it out.

Willow spoke quietly, evenly, not making eye contact, and the others didn't interrupt. She told them the whole story... well, most of it. She glossed over the Spikey bits; she had a feeling nothing good could come out of Angel knowing Spike had loved Buffy, and that Spike was the closest thing the hellmouth had to a guardian right now. But she told them of Glory coming after them, and hurting Tara. All of them running from Glory. Dawn being captured. Buffy collapsing, and Willow bringing her back. Fighting Glory, saving Tara, Buffy killing Glory. The portal opening...

...and then Giles carrying Buffy's body back to the house, refusing to let anyone help him, her and Xander taking Tara, Dawn and Anya to the emergency room making up a story about a mugging and trying to look grateful they got off so easy...

Cordelia was weeping silently, holding Angel's hand. Angel himself seemed practically deaf and blind to what was happening around him; once or twice his face would twitch in response to something Willow said, otherwise he might as well have been... well, dead. Wesley, though... felt awkward. As much as he had admired Buffy (once he got past his first impression of her as a typical American airhead) they'd never been close. He felt sorry for his friends, but couldn't help feeling like he didn't belong in this room right now. So when Gunn popped his head around the door and quietly gestured for him and Cordelia to join him in the lobby, Wes was almost relieved. He mumbled an apology and got Cordelia's attention; she stood up, her hand staying on Angel's shoulder for a few extra seconds (if he noticed, he didn't show it) and they left the room.

"Sorry to interrupt the sorrow, but I really think you oughta hear this before..." He nodded towards the dining room. "…before HE does."

"What is it?"

"Answering machine."

The three of them stood in the office as Gunn rewound the tape.

"Hi. It's me. Um... I don't know how to say this without sounding like Needy Ex-Girl, but... I think we could really use some help over here. That's what you do now, right? Because we're looking pretty helpless. Glory is onto us and... Oh God. We're going on the run. Heading East, I think. And we're seriously short on firepower. I know I've no right to ask this, but I've gotta look out for Dawn and right now, none of us have a clue how to fight Glory... I don't wanna beg, but I will if it'll help. Angel, I'm scared to death. I think... (Oi! Buffy! Let's go, luv!) the car's here. I've gotta go. You have my cell number. I... "

A brief hesitation, and then a click. They stood in silence for a few minutes, looking as if they'd heard a ghost. Wesley was the first to speak up.

"When was this?"

"Display says Monday. I guess right about the time we left for Pylea."

Cordelia began to cry in earnest at that point. If she hadn't been abducted to a hell dimension they would have been here to take the call and... Wesley's voice was completely emotionless when he spoke.

"Erase it."

They both stared at their boss. "You sure about that, bro?"

"This is the last thing he needs to hear right now. What is done is done, she is dead, and no amount of guilt on his part is going to change that. Erase it." When Gunn didn't move, Wesley hit the button himself, deleting Buffy's last message to Angel.

"So how's Dawn?" It was the first thing Angel had said since they sat down. Willow had finished the story as well as she could and had been expecting him to ask something... but not that.

God, he's never even SEEN her. But he thinks he has... Damn, those monks were good. Damn, I was good; that soul of his is like a Timex. "Well, you know, she's... We've been giving her some of the pills the doctors gave Tara after Glory... just so she doesn't hurt herself. She's barely spoken a word since..." Silence. Not exactly the awkward kind, just... expectant.

"So what's going to happen once people find out that Buffy is... gone?"

There it was. For the longest time she couldn't tell him. This was the hardest bit, the one she had really feared. She sat there for a couple of minutes, steeling herself.

"They won't find out."

"Willow... someone WILL know. Sooner or later someone will start asking where Buffy is."

"She'll be right here. Or, you know, I mean in Sunnydale, right there. Because here is there and there is..." Whoopee, what a time to start babbling. "Angel, they're not going to leave custody of a 15-year-old to a couple of gay witches or a carpenter whose girlfriend, officially, doesn't exist. Plus, there's all the vampires in the Western hemisphere who'd probably arrange bus tours to hold raves on the slayer's grave and cap it with a come-as-you-are hellmouth opening." She looked him in the eye, taking control of yet another situation, bossing it over one more person, hating herself a bit more. "No one can know. As far as anyone outside is concerned, Buffy is alive and well. Possibly even chipper."

"But how..."

"I-I'm not sure yet. Magic. Technology. Whatever it takes to get it done. I have some ideas, but it's..."
(painful)
"...hard."

Again, it took Angel a while to form words. "Will there be some sort of..."

"We had the funeral already. I'm sorry you couldn't be there, but we had to do it quickly... I mean, it's not like we could take her to an undertaker and it's summer... the heat..." She couldn't go on. She felt awful; there was nothing for him to do – hey man, your girlfriend's dead, deal with it.

"Oh." Angel looked so small, so lost. "So where..."

"We found a spot in the woods. We used to hold picnics there when we were in high school. I put a glamour on it so no one will find it who doesn't know what to look for. It was just... you know, the gang. Me, Xander and Giles carried her... sh-she barely weighed anything." And she realized there was at least one small thing she could do for him. "Come on. I'll show you. It's just a few hours away, and it's not like I'm going to be able to sleep anyway."

"Cordelia... Wesley..."

"Can follow us if they want, but I think... I think she'd want some time alone with you first."

And about an hour later they left LA, Willow piloting Ira Rosenberg's vintage Mustang (one advantage to absent parents) back through the night towards Sunnydale. Staring at the dark road as the headlights ate up the white line in the middle, willing her eyes to stay focused, occasionally glancing at Angel who only seemed to retreat further into himself the closer they got. He looked like every single one of his 250-odd years. When they got there, she had to literally prop the vampire up as he stumbled out of the car. She walked with him, finding her way by starlight
(homing)
until they could see the glade.

"Right over there. It's a stone marker – if you're looking for it, you'll see it. Do you want me to..."

"No. You go on, I'll be... I'd like to..."

"OK, you take your time. Sun's up in about five hours, Revello Drive is about a mile and a half in that direction. I'll make sure to leave the front door unlocked and the drapes closed. 'Kay?" She offered what she hoped was a comforting smile and gave him a hug he didn't return, then watched him stumble his way towards his lover's grave. God, she was tired. OK, one thing at a time. Drive home. Make house vampire-friendly...er. Hide evidence of Spikiness. Check on Dawn, check on Giles, make a shopping list (groceries, electronics, magic stuff) for tomorrow, cuddle up to Tara for a sleepless hour or two, then start all over again...