One Week Later
"…In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return."
Dressed in a simple black dress, Buffy stood solemnly by the grave only half-listening to the priest’s words. Her eyes roved over the people, all in black with somber expressions. She didn’t even recognize half of them. Stupidly, she wondered who they were, how they’d known Angel.
For the millionth time, her eyes were swimming with unshed tears. When would it stop? Wouldn’t she run out of tears?
Buffy discretely brushed a lone tear off her cheek, sniffling slightly. She turned her attention to the priest again.
The past week had been like one of those dreams where she watched herself doing something from the outside looking in. All she could remember was picking out the gleaming dark wood casket with the beautiful silk lining. Beautiful like Angel.
A warm hand touched hers. Faith.
Buffy gripped her sister-in-law’s hand. She was wearing a relatively conservative outfit, a short black skirt, high heels and a black blouse that Buffy knew was hers.
Faith mouthed bits and pieces of the prayers, and Buffy found herself watching her, trying to follow the words. It was hopeless, she decided. Buffy had only been to church a couple of times in her life, but Faith had gone to a Catholic school as a kid like Angel.
Buffy tore her gaze from the grave, trying to focus on something else. Anything else. Her eyes caught a glimpse of nearly white hair poking through the crowd. Against the black, the hair stood out in stark relief, and Buffy sought out for the head the hair belonged to.
Finally, she caught a glimpse of a face. It was different looking, all angles and sharp edges. High razor cheekbones, sharp jaw, but an oddly full mouth.
She wondered who he was.
Buffy kept her gaze on the peculiar man, trying to place him, but she knew she’d never met him. Probably a friend of Angel’s from work, she mused. It was nice that he could come.
Tears slipped down her faces as the priest said one last “Amen.”
Faith tugged her hand and they moved through the crowd. Everyone murmured, “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Faith just ignored them; pulling Buffy as she murmured back, “Thank you.”
Faith stopped in front of a small group of people and let go of Buffy’s hand to hug them. Buffy looked up, surprised by Faith’s gesture.
Instantly her eyes met the man’s she’d seen before. The one with the white hair.
“Hello.” That voice, Buffy thought. She’d heard it before.
“Buffy,” Faith began, touching her shoulder lightly. “This is Will, he’s a friend from London.”
“Nice to meet you,” Buffy responded with a slight inclination of her head. Her eyes were unfocused. She just wanted to go home.
“B, this is Will’s uncle, Rupert Giles, and his daughter. Angel and I grew up with them,” Faith explained as an older, distinguished looking man walked up and grasped Buffy’s hands.
“I’m so deeply sorry for your loss,” Giles told her, and for once Buffy could feel the sincerity in those words.
“Thank you,” she replied, her voice a bare whisper. Her eyes then shifted to a teenage girl, no more than fifteen, standing next to the older man. Her mouth was turn down, her big blue eyes filled with sorrow.
“I’m Dawn,” she said, pulling on a strand of her dark hair.
Buffy managed to crack a flimsy smile. “I’m Buffy. It’s nice to meet you.”
Giles cleared his throat. “We’ll see you back at the house then,” he said to Faith and she nodded.
“Buffy and I’ll stop by later,” she confirmed.
Buffy just nodded blankly while Faith led her back to the gravesite. Angel’s grave.
“Listen, I hope that wasn’t too awkward,” Faith began, “but Giles practically raised us when we were in school. Angel and Will were best friends at St. James.”
Buffy tried to picture Angel as a young teenage boy. It was so hard to do; he was always so calm, so charismatic, so grown-up. He was perfect, and now she’d lost him.
“Do you mind?” Faith was asking.
Buffy tried to clear her head. “Mind what?”
“If we stop by their house. It would just be the five of us,” Faith said, carefully watching her sister-in-law’s face.
“No,” Buffy said, “no I don’t mind.” Her voice sounded far away to her ears.
She and Faith stood in front of the grave until the crowd had dwindled to the graveyard people. The two men stood there respectively waiting for them to leave.
Finally, Faith half-pulled Buffy away. “Come on,” she said into the blonde’s ear, “let’s get something to eat.”
*****************
Buffy stared down at the bone-white china cup filled with tea. The dark liquid wobbled as she set it down on the tea plate.
Once again, Buffy looked up at the three unfamiliar faces, wondering what to say. Was there really anything to say?
Giles cleared his throat loudly. “Erm, Buffy, have you lived in Sunnydale your whole life?”
Buffy shook her head no. “I’m from LA, I moved with…” She swallowed, dropping her gaze to her hands.
A loud clatter startled Buffy and her head snapped up. Will sat on the chair opposite hers, his fist clenched and his face tight. “Sorry,” he mumbled, picking up the shattered cup.
Faith leaped up to help him. “I’ll get the dustbin,” she announced and disappeared down the long hallway.
Buffy let her eyes drift over the elegant room. The Giles’ house was more of a mansion than anything, and was filled with antiques and lovely wooden furniture. She had yet to spot a TV or computer. Briefly, Buffy wondered how the teenage girl lived without them.
Faith returned shortly and helped Will pick up the larger pieces before brushing the remainder in the dustbin. The scene painfully reminded Buffy of her own accident that evening.
Everything hurts, Buffy thought, her hands twisting together.
“Buffy,” Giles said gently and the blonde met his gaze.
“Oh sorry,” she apologized, “I was just spacing a little.”
“Don’t apologize, I was just wondering where you’re staying right now,” Giles asked.
“Oh.” Buffy hesitated. “I’m staying with Faith, for now at least.”
Giles’s eyes flickered over to Faith who had an unreadable look in her eyes. She turned to her sister-in-law. “Listen, B, I meant to tell you sooner, but with everything going on…” she stopped, taking a deep breath. “I’m moving to New York in about a week. I got a job offer there.”
Buffy could feel herself literally breaking into a thousand pieces.
No.
Faith couldn’t leave, not now. She had no one else, not her mother, not her father. She hadn’t kept in contact with any of her college friends, much less seen them.
She was alone.
“You’re leaving?” Buffy’s voice cracked.
Guilt was plain of Faith’s face. “I’m sorry, I accepted the day…I can’t take it back.”
Buffy’s throat felt tight, and she drew in a shaky breath. “Oh.”
“Buffy,” Giles’s calm tone caught her attention, and she slowly shifted her gaze to him, her vision blurred.
“You’re more than welcome to stay here. I know we’ve just met, but Angel was like a son to me, and my home is always open to you.”
Tears leaked out of Buffy’s eyes. “Thank you,” she stuttered. “But I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“You wouldn’t be,” Giles told her firmly. “Please, stay here with us.”
“You could even share my room,” Dawn finally spoke, her voice almost hopeful.
Buffy managed to crack a small smile at that. “Thank you,” she said and for the first time since Angel had died, she felt a little bit more focused.
“Think nothing of it, my dear,” Giles replied with a faint smile of his own. “Well, I suspect you and Faith are exhausted, as am I. Do stop by tomorrow, and I’ll give you a more tour of my home beyond this room.”
Buffy nodded gratefully and stood up with Faith. “Good night,” she said softly as Faith hugged her friends.
They walked out into the bizarrely crisp night, and Buffy looked up at the faint stars against the dark sky before climbing into the passenger seat.
Was Angel up there? She wondered as she and Faith drove to her apartment in silence.
Slowly, Buffy made her way to the pullout couch, and didn’t even bother washing her face or changing into pajamas. She just slipped out of her painful high heels, pulled off the dress and curled into bed.
“Night, B,” Faith called out, her voice a whisper.
“Night,” Buffy replied. She waited until Faith’s door clicked shut before sitting up. She looked out the small window, out at the sky and the little park across the street.
No one was there this late at night, obviously, but the swings still moved, pushed by a phantom breeze. Buffy had never believed in the supernatural or ghosts, but now…she wanted so badly to believe.
“Angel,” she said out loud, her voice thick. “I love you.” Tears spilt on to her pillow, and she closed her eyes, falling into a fitful sleep.