She could see Spike at the other end of the room doing the same, though she doubted his heart ached like hers did. He probably didn’t already know these stories, probably enjoyed hearing them. She wished she could, she felt jaded and wrong that she couldn’t. Wakes were the lighter side, when everyone shared and remembered the good, but her dark side just longed to be back at the grave silently weeping; it’s what she wanted to do now, but in the graveyard it had been acceptable. Here she didn’t like her role, didn’t know her line, but she had to do it anyway.
He made his way over to her slowly, still having to stop every couple of people to exchange a short conversation. She knew it’d take less time if she did the same and changed her direction of movement around the grievers to coincide with his.
When they reached each other he gave her a big hug, she felt a weight lift off her and her head cleared for a minute.
He turned his head and whispered a question, “How are you holding up?”
She pulled away slowly and forced a smiled, “I’m coping.”
Knowing it was all he would get from her in front of people he leant back down, “Have you seen my dad?”
She paused, knowing she couldn’t lie; sooner or later Giles would surface, preferably after the guests went home, and then Spike would know anyway. She took a deep breath, “He’s erm…he’s in his study…drinking the cabinet dry.”
Spike sighed, “Great.”
“Just leave him, Spike.” she suggested, touching his arm gently, “It’s not the healthiest way, but it’s quiet.”
Spike wondered if she had more to say or whether she really did think quiet equalled better no matter how unhealthy. God knows she’d been quiet enough recently, but did she think it was okay to do anything as long as it was behind closed doors?
He couldn’t help thinking about them. They’d come here to tell their family, finally deciding it was right, finally set on being in the open and then suddenly they couldn’t be, so now they were back to being a secret. She would talk to him like a lover, kiss him, tell him how she felt about him, but it was very much behind closed doors for them now.
Take this moment for example; all he wanted to do was put his arm around her waist, hold her hand in his, just something small and affectionate, but something to let her know he was there for her. He didn’t try; he knew she wouldn’t have any of it, not because she didn’t want it, but because it would make her paranoid about what people would think. Truth be told people probably wouldn’t bat an eye, but just in case they did she wouldn’t have it.
He hoped she wouldn’t want to keep it that way forever, and that what she’d just said was a slip up, not a belief, because he couldn’t do this for much longer.
“Where’s Dawn?” Buffy asked, looking around the room.
Spike looked around quickly as well, unable to pick her out of the faces. “Dunno, haven’t seen the little bit in a while.”
“That doesn’t sound of the good.” Buffy said turning her attention back to the people they were with.
Dawn stepped into the room out of the hallway where she’d been hiding. She looked over to where Spike and Buffy were and decided to make a b-line for them, hoping they would protect her from the rest of the crowd. All she had to do was cross the room without getting stopped, but in the end she stopped herself in front of a huddled group of distant relatives.
“The service was very brief.” one said.
“I thought so too.” another one agreed.
“But it was lovely.” the last one added.
The first spoke again, “Oh of course, lovely…lovely, but short.”
“Are you freaking kidding me?!” Dawn shouted suddenly.
The whole gaggle turned around stunned.
“Are you seriously talking about my mother’s funeral as if it was the movie-of-the-week or something?” Dawn continued without missing a beat.
Buffy and Spike turned around now, everyone else had stopped talking and all eyes were on Dawn so they joined in. Buffy sighed, she had seen this coming; she was only surprised that it had taken this long. No matter how hard she tried, something had to ruin the day.
The women said nothing more, but Dawn continued as if they had, “Are you actually kidding me? How dare you!”
“Dawn.” Spike said firmly.
“No,” she said before he could say anything else, “I’ve had enough today.”
“So has everyone, Dawn.” he frowned, “Please try and think about…”
She cut him off again, “I am, I’m thinking about mom. She died and everyone here seems to have forgot!”
Buffy’s blood was boiling, so what if someone was making an inappropriate comment here and there, it was Dawn who was insulting their mother’s memory right now. “Dawn, be quiet!” she barked.
“Buffy, how can you let them talk about her this way?” she asked desperately. “Talk about her funeral, talk about us as if we’re not even here,” her voice was trembling, “like we don’t even matter?”
“It’s not what she’s doing.” Spike tried to explain calmly, thinking how best to make her see how she wasn’t the only one in pain, “We’re just…”
“Get out!” Dawn said suddenly in a high pitched scream, “All of you just get out!” She was speaking to the room now.
Buffy rushed forward. “Dawn, you can’t speak to people like that!”
“Why not?! They don’t care about mom! Most of them are just here to spy on us, see how messed up we are! Well!” she cried turning to face everyone again. “Have a good look!”
Buffy had had enough, her anger had gone and she was nothing but ashamed now. She grabbed Dawn’s arm and dragged her to the bottom of the stairs.
“Let go of me!” Dawn yelled pulling her arm free once there.
“You’re embarrassing yourself.” Buffy said through gritted teeth.
“No I’m not,” she said defiantly, “I’m embarrassing you. I can see the way you’ve been looking at me all day, wondering when I’ll trip up and let everyone see we’re not the perfect little family you’ve been pretending we are. Well I’ve done it now, and everyone knows!” She was almost crying, but trying to hold it back.
Buffy rubbed her brow with her hand, too tired to deal with this, “Just…Just go to your room, Dawnie.” she begged.
“You can’t tell me that,” she said lip quivering; “you’re not mom.”
Buffy’s heart clenched, “No, I’m not, Dawn. Mom’s gone…and she’s not coming back, no matter how many tantrums you throw.”
Dawn’s tears flowed freely now, she stomped up the stairs quickly. Buffy regretted it all immediately and wanted to follow her, but her bedroom door banged shut and when she heard it lock she knew she didn’t have the energy it’d take to undo it just now.
When Buffy turned around everyone was looking at her, everyone, including Spike. She felt their judging eyes on her and she couldn’t bare it. She shook her head and made her way to the kitchen away from them. She heard him follow.
He found her leaning forwards on the kitchen island; arms outstretched baring all her weight. She was pulling in harsh breaths as she tried to ground herself, her eyes were squeezed shut and her jaw clenched.
“I can’t do this.” she said to him without opening her eyes.
He came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist lifting her slightly and rested his chin on her shoulder. She didn’t feel so heavy now and took one of her arms away from the island to cup her palm over both of his on her stomach.
“I couldn’t do this without you.” she corrected.
“It’s my family too, pet.” he said into her hair, “I can help; you just have to let me.”
She sighed, “You being here is enough.”
He kissed her hair and then her neck gently.
“I, I have to go back in there.” she stuttered suddenly.
“Are you sure?” he asked, “We could do like Dawn said, send them home. If it’s too much…I can tell them.”
She shook her head, “Dawn saw what I saw this morning, a couple of thoughtless dummies who couldn’t keep their mouths shut. She doesn’t see the rest of them… mom’s friends, the ones here who loved her. They need to grieve today too, I can’t send them home.”
“Buffy.” he said turning her around so she could look at him, “They would understand if you needed peace and quiet, or a little space to deal with it all.”
“No,” she said, “I can’t be selfish.” She was so tired, but she knew what was needed. “Please, come with me.” she asked, “And don’t leave my side.”
She squeezed the fingers of one of his hands; he moved to slip it into hers properly.
“Never.” he promised.