Well that's just typical huh. They were only your son and daughter for 18 years, yet you can't bother to show up at your own childrens funeral, Buffy concluded as she looked around the the small but peaceful Shady Hills Cemetery. Well at least not until the sun goes down and the vampires come out to play. The vampires who are gonna get a beating off me until I find out who killed my best friends! As Buffy looked around, she started to cry again.
"It was a good turnout, wasn't it honey. It looks like they had a lot of friends, even if it didn't look like that to them." Joyce, Buffy's mum, who was like a mum to Xander and Willow as their own family were never around. Yeah it's true, Buffy concured. It looks like the whole of the senior year showed up. It even looks like Cordelia and her Cordettes managed to show. They might have even liked them. And when I get my hands on the vampire who killed them, they will wish that they were never re-born, because I am going to torture like Angelus did us. Wait he said that he was going to torture me in ways I couldn't imagine. Me and my friends. He did this. He killed them. I'm going to kill him but it'll never bring them back. Never.
As the service drawed to an end, the people who attended the funeral mourned the loss in their own ways. Buffy and her family, broke into a sea of sobs as did Giles. The population of the senior year, who didn't know Xander and Willow, like Buffy and Giles, looked on inhorror as the realisation of the deaths sunk in. The only other people who were there were the teachers and they were off in their own worlds, not letting the news hit home. Two more were dead. Principal Flutie, a whole room of students, Miss Jenny Calender and now Xander Harris and Willow Rosenburg. All those who died on the premises of Sunnydale High.
When the mass finished, Buffy collapsed onto her knees and never stopped crying. In the end after everyone but Giles and Joyce had left her, she got up and walked as she sobbed. While Giles and Joyce helped her, they knew then. Nothing would be the same.
Night approached and silently crept on. A normal night in a cemetery. Until in unison, bodies appeared from the graves of Alexander Harris and Willow Rosenburg. A cool irish accent accent played in the wind as Angelus watched and quietly whispered "I've been waiting."
