The air hung heavy in the waiting room at the hospital. Yes, they had won, yes, the prophesy had been laid to rest, but in the face of their losses, the victory felt empty. They felt empty. Everyday slayers learnt to deal with death, with destruction, but that still didn’t desensitise them, didn’t protect them from the pain they felt when they lost one of their own. Couldn’t protect any of them from feeling the weight of their own fragile mortality.

Willow and Giles sat slightly apart from the others, their grief more personal, their desolation more pronounced. To lose not only someone you worked with, but also someone you had loved was something that both of them had suffered in the past. Too many times. And still it hadn’t become any easier. Never became any easier. Willow’s plaintive sobs bearing witness to the breaking of her heart.

“Why, Giles? Why? Everyone I love dies! Everyone.., is it me..?”

She was pushing the words from her mouth, even though she felt too exhausted to speak. After the battle she had tried to find her friends immediately, had looked for them first with her mind, and then in the flesh. Only finally believing what she had feared, when she had found Faith. When she had seen the confirmation in her eyes, heard it from her mouth.

“…did I do something wrong..?”

Her voice slipped into silence, the merest hint of a whisper.

“…am I a bad person, Giles? Is that it?”

He didn’t know what to say, didn’t think that there were any words he could say. The most he could find to do was to wrap his arms just that little bit tighter around her, offer her the comfort of human contact, the warmth of not being alone. He knew it wasn’t much, but he hoped that it helped, hoped it gave Willow something to hang on to.

The sound of the doors gave them a second of something else to focus on, a moment of not thinking the same thoughts. It was Faith. She looked dead on her feet, all the hours of the last few days rushing to catch up with her. Every moment she’d spent not prepared to sleep, not prepared to take an ounce of rest, weighing heavy in each of her limbs. She’d been through it today. In so many different ways. Couldn’t remember any other time in her life when she’d felt so utterly overwhelmed by the myriad of emotions she was made to endure. Not even her darkest time was this screwed up. She wanted to scream, to shout, to whoop, to holler, to laugh, to cry. And she sure as hell wanted to sleep. But she still couldn’t. Not yet. There was still miles to go.

She slowly approached Willow, still had to tell her the details, still had to explain what had happened, how she let it happen. It was so fresh in her memory, playing on a loop. Every detail, over and over, from the second she had entered the lair. It was plaguing her, making her wonder if she could have done anything different, changed the outcome. Prevented the heartache.

Willow allowed Faith to envelope her in her arms, to share her pain. It was different pain they were feeling, two different kinds of loss, but both of them drew comfort from what they could share.

Faith was the first to speak. To offer condolences.

“I’m so sorry, Red… so sorry.”

“Tell me how it happened, Faith… I need to know how.”

Faith broke apart from the warmth of Willow’s hold, needed to distance herself… she couldn’t stop thinking about it, seeing it… she didn’t want to speak about it, not yet, but she knew she had to. Knew she had to give Willow some sought of closure.

Her shoulders slumped as she made to sit down, collapsing under the weight of everything she bore.

“Wait, Faith…”

Willow had recognised the despondency in the other girl, remembered how much she had also been through, so much more then anyone else maybe.

“…how are YOU holding up..? Are you okay..?”

She didn’t look okay. She looked lost. Overwhelmed. But at Willow’s words, she steeled herself, hardened her defences against anymore pain.

“I’ll be fine, Red… five by five. Don’t worry ‘bout me, ok?”

“Of course I’ll worry about you…”

She offered Faith a glimpse of her resolve face.

“…and there’s nothing you can do about it, so don’t even try.”

“Bossy broads… I like it.”

They allowed themselves a small smile, a small second of relief, before Faith began the telling. Shared with Willow the last moments of Kennedy’s life.

“It was so fucked up, Red… the noise was deafening, all that chanting… and there was so many of them, way more then we thought, too many to keep a sense of…”

She could see it again behind her eyes. The lair filled with demons.

“…we could see B, they had her chained to some fucking slab, an altar maybe… but it was so far away, we had to fight our way through, just swinging and killing, really fucking letting fly…”

She remembered Kennedy at her side, matching the demons blow for blow.

“…she was awesome, Red… and then… shit, then I saw him, and I zoned. I dunno, maybe it was some vamp mojo, but I just lost it… had Angelus in my head, and it was so real… I fucked up, let him get to me, and if it wasn’t for her..? Man, she saved my ass… saved Buffy’s ass…had a demon just about to make mince meat of me, she gave me the heads up…”

She remembered coming round and seeing Angelus at Buffy. Throwing her stake.

“…she said she had my back. Gave me the moment I needed to save B. Helped me break the fucking chains they had her in, lifted her up and put her in my arms…”

This was the bit that hurt. The moment she’d never stop saying thank you for.

“…and I saw it in her eyes. The moment she went to push me out the way..? I knew. Could feel it coming up behind me, knew I couldn’t move, knew I had to hold on to B… and she just fucking pushed me. She must have known…”

Her voice was so hoarse with the emotion, her eyes making way for silent tears.

“…must have known she’d take the blow… but she still did it. She did it for me, she did it for Buffy…”

She allowed her eyes to seek out Willow’s, wanted to convey all she felt.

“…and I am so fucking sorry, Red. If I could’ve stopped her… could have saved her..? I just couldn’t do anything.”

She saw again the head demon, heard it’s shrieks as it realised what had happened, felt it close in behind her as her arms cradled Buffy, saw the blow meant for her as it hit Kennedy, saw her fall, saw the blood. Felt the pain.

Willow slipped her hand into Faith’s and gave a slight squeeze. It wasn’t her fault, there was nothing she could do. She took comfort from knowing that her death hadn’t been in vain, that she hadn’t died for nothing. Her last act being one of absolute courage and bravery. It made her proud. It didn’t ease the loss, but it offered a small comfort.

“She always got her own way, Faith… you know that. And if her way was doing what she did to save you, to save Buffy… then we have to respect that. Have to love her for it.”

Giles broke into their conversation to ask if anyone wanted refreshments. He hated sitting around these places. The waiting to know how loved ones were faring. If your world was going to be shattered.

“I’m cool, Giles… the nurses made me drink a couple gallons of water so I could piss in a cup for them, wanted to see if I had any internal injuries. I don’t think I could drink anything else if I tried… maybe a shot or ten, but nothing soft.”

“Willow?”

“I’m fine. I’m with Faith. Unless it’s got mind numbing qualities, it’s just not worth it.”

He left to get himself some refreshment and returned with Wes and Fred. They had come not only to catch up on what had happened, but also to be there for Faith. They knew better then most the level of the bond that she had shared with Angel. Understood how hard it was going to be for her to accept what she had had to do. It was going to be a hard adjustment for all of them.

Wes broke through his normal reservations to take Faith in a hug, to offer her words he thought she might need to hear, to let her know that he was there for her, always, anytime, anything she needed… he would be there. Just like Angel had been.

They were words which brought fresh tears to Faith’s eyes. It was all so much. She still hadn’t seen Buffy since they had brought her in, knew only that the nurse said she was strong, and out of danger. Didn’t know if she had woken up… didn’t know what state she would be in when she did wake up. She was buckling under the loss of Kennedy, one of the best friends she had made in LA, someone who was always willing to share a joke with her, companionship with her. And Angel. She hadn’t even gone there yet. Wasn’t letting herself. She didn’t know how to feel, how she should feel. Even though she knew there was no other way, that she would do it again a hundred times over… there was still a part of her that felt as if she had let him down, had given up on him.

“Thanks Wes, I appreciate it.”

“There’s some stuff we need to go over… papers that Angel had in case… well, in case something happened to him…”

“I leave all that stuff to you, Wes. Just let me know what the big guy wanted…”

She broke off there. The doors swung open and the doctor walked through. He met their eyes immediately, having nothing that he needed to keep from them, glad to be able to offer some sort of good news to this bunch of people. He wasn’t sure who they were, what they did… but he’d seen them before. He thought perhaps they might be vigilantes, keeping the streets of LA safe for folk like him, free from gangs and such. Whoever they were, he just had a feeling that maybe he should be thankful to them.

He pointed his look at Giles.

“Are you her father?”

“Yes.”

A little fib never hurt. All eyes turned to the doctor, all ears strained to hear what he had to say.

“Well, she’s rather been through it, I’d say. There was significant blood loss… multiple injuries, lacerations, puncture wounds… luckily nothing looks to be infected, nothing that won’t heal…”

He cast his gaze round the room, knew that some of these girls seemed to recover from injuries super fast. Had seen breaks and fractures heal in record time.

“…she’s just waking up now, we’ve got her pretty juiced up on the morphine, so she’ll be disorientated, but if you wanted to see her for a moment, that would be fine.”

Faith stepped forward, felt she should be first through the doors.

“Giles?”

“Faith, let me go in first. I know you want to see her, but just let me go in. We don’t know how she’s going to react to any of this, what state she is going to be in…”

“I want to see her.”

“…I’ll be quick. Be patient Faith.”

She gave a resigned shrug. Didn’t have the energy left to argue.

The room was bathed in the hues of a breaking dawn. The first light of a fresh day sneaking through the slats in the blinds. Buffy lay silently on the bed, seemingly so small against the large white sheets. Her eyes were open, but she wasn’t focusing on anything. Barely looked up when Giles entered the room. He walked forward and gently reached out a hand to her head, just a tender stroke across her brow, a fathers touch. She flinched at it though, not use to a touch that didn’t bring pain.

“Buffy… are you..?”

“Hey, Giles…”

Her voice was tiny, worn out from all the screaming she had done.

“…I’m ok. Sore. Need a new vacation… but I’m ok.”

He perched on the side of the bed, careful not to jog into her. She had bandages everywhere, covering the places Angelus had marked her… stitches in the worst of them. Her skin still lacked any colour, her injuries still shining in stark contrast.

“Maybe next time you feel like going away for awhile, you’ll pick something a little more tranquil… less…”

“Stalked by menacing demon..?”

“Exactly.”

Giles took a moment, knew that Buffy liked to make light in a crisis, to deal with pain by making it bearable. He could also see the tiredness in her eyes, the exhaustion that she was wearing on her face.

“Can I get you anything, Buffy… a drink perhaps..?”

She thought about that. There was only one thing she thought she needed now, one thing which could start to make things better.

“Is Faith here..?”

Giles smiled. He should have known.

“I’ll just go and get her for you.”

He went to leave, barely heard Buffy’s faint call, turned to see what it was she wanted.

“What about Angel..? Did she..? Is he…?”

She couldn’t say the word. Had no memory of what had happened.

“Yes, Buffy… he’s gone. I‘m sorry.”

He saw the flash of pain as it sped through her eyes, the understanding as it settled on her features. He didn’t know how she would take the news. What it would mean to her. As he left the room, he saw that her gaze had again fixed on that place which wasn’t quite here.

Buffy was being bathed in memories of Angel, from the first time she had seen him to the last… it hurt to think he wasn’t there anymore, hurt to realise he was gone… but a part of her..? It was glad. The torment she had suffered at Angelus’ hands was too much for her to forget, would have been in her mind every time she had seen Angel… she never could have trusted him again. Never could have felt safe with him.

She closed her eyes and banished the hurt of Angelus, banished every word he had spoken to her, every thing he had done to her. He couldn’t touch her now, would never touch her again. In her head she said goodbye to Angel. Allowed the silent tears to slip down her face. As she heard the door handle turning, she forced her eyelids open, fought against the morphine to have a clear view. Her eyes opened on Faith.

And she found a reason to smile.

It was five days since she had dressed in proper clothes. Five long days in the comfort of a hospital gown. But not today. Today she was taking her time, choosing her clothes carefully. Sombre clothes for a sombre day. She still felt weak. Still felt overwhelmed, but today she was making herself leave. Returning to the world to wish someone else goodbye.

Buffy glanced around at the now familiar walls of her room. The starkness, the smell… these things all assaulted her senses, and whereas before they would have repelled her, now they felt like sanctuary. Safety. When she had first woken up here, she had been bathed in a morphine daze, able to deal with everything, because nothing felt quite real… but after that..? The next time she had woken up..? That had felt like hell.

Faith had filled her in on what had happened. The events in the lair. What Angelus had done to her. And it was all just so much. Kennedy’s death. Angel. Everything had piled up on her, tormented her, until the point that waking up was scarier then her nightmares. She knew that Angelus was gone, was thankful that he was gone, but she still hadn’t managed to completely banish the fear. Hadn’t managed to come to terms with her own mortality creeping up on her. Again.

She had sought to be alone. It had been hard, everyone wanted to see her, Willow, Giles, the newly arrived Dawn, Xander, so many. And of course Faith. But she didn’t want their company, couldn’t deal with it yet. So she’d retreated. Had spent all her time in virtual silence, not able to make conversation, because she was scared of what they would want to talk about. Didn’t want to relive her hurt in spoken memories, the hurt she was feeling at the unspoken ones was bad enough.

Their worried gazes had permeated her silence, she knew that she should be trying harder, that to get on with life was the only way to go. But not yet. She’d needed the time, needed to make peace with her own mind, before she could move on. Now, today, she felt almost ready. At least ready to see what awaited her on the other side of the door.

Faith had been the most attentive, nearly always there. Morning, noon AND night. Buffy had ignored her whilst she was there, giving not more then non-committal grunts to any conversation starter, and then missed her terribly when she woke to find her gone. On the occasions that she had fallen asleep in her chair, then Buffy watched her. Studied her intently… wanted so much to go to her, to ease HER pain. But she had remained paralysed by her own lack of dealing. Unable to start the healing process. Faith hadn’t been by yesterday, nor this morning… and Buffy just hoped that she hadn’t left it too late. Hadn’t taken too long to reach out a hand.

She realised how hard this day was going to be for Faith. For Willow as well, but especially for Faith. Buffy had never felt particularly close to Kennedy, even in the days after Sunnydale when she had hung with her and Willow for a while, it still didn’t click. They really had not much in common, and when distance was put between them, they felt no need to close it. If Buffy had known though what Kennedy would one day do for her, she would have taken a whole lot more time getting to know her. But that wasn’t the case. So she would do her best. She would go to the funeral and pay her respects, and then she would be there for Willow, and also for Faith.

She would make the most of the life that Kennedy had given her.

Dawn had arrived to take her to the service, her mood reflecting the downbeat slump of Buffy’s shoulders. They hadn’t spoken much on the way to the cemetery , neither of them looking forward to the emotional toll the day was sure to take on them. Dawn and Giles had tickets to fly home the following day, and had also booked Buffy a ticket. They had seen how unresponsive she had been in hospital, and thought taking her home was the best solution. Faith had disagreed, but Buffy hadn’t. Hadn’t said much of anything when the idea was put to her, was still too busy trying to put her head back together.

Dawn had pestered Buffy again in the car for her thoughts, insisted she needed to confirm the flights, but still Buffy couldn’t be drawn. Had said they would talk later, at the beach. After the service. Dawn had finally accepted that and the rest of the journey had bathed in silence.

Now, at the cemetery, Buffy was watching Willow place a final rose on Kennedy’s coffin before it was lowered into the ground. Was feeling the weight of the words spoken, by friends, family, Faith. Words about love, about life, about living.

She herself hadn’t said anything. Couldn’t find the words to say to the wooden box that housed the body of the girl who had saved her life. She would pay her respects later, in private. She had cried tears though, from the moment her eyes had locked into Willow’s, had witnessed her best friends pain, she had cried. Faith’s eyes weren’t for catching. She was wearing reflective sunglasses, every time Buffy had tried to catch her gaze, all she had seen was her own dejection staring back at her.

It all felt so wrong. Felt like she should be standing at Faith’s side, helping her on. Not the other side of a grave which seemed thousands of feet wide. She didn’t know how to approach her though, didn’t know what words to say after having said none for so long. Usually it would be easy banter, the flow of traded innuendo, the warmth of a shared smile which found them talking. But today there wasn’t room for any of that, so she didn’t know how to go to her. How to comfort her.

As the service drew to a close, Buffy watched as Xander drew Willow into his embrace, placed a hand to her face and wiped at her tears. She longed for the contact. Watched as next Faith clang to Willow, watched them exchange words, touches. Watched the removal of sunglasses, saw the lost look in her eyes. Saw Willow squeeze her hand, watched the hint of a smile return. Wondered how on earth she hadn’t found a way to be there for her.

She prayed that Faith would look up, would offer a small glance her way, just a look because she had to. Because she needed to. But she didn’t. Her head had nearly turned, but then it had dropped, fixed to the floor, and the glasses were replaced.

They all slowly made their ways back to the cars. Everybody would be going to the beach. To Faith’s house. No-one was making small talk, meeting each others eyes. They still had one more goodbye to make. One final farewell.

Faith was stood on the beach outside of her house. She was surrounded by a great many people, all of them here to say goodbye to Angel. To forget the demon Angelus, and to instead say goodbye to the man who had meant so much to them. Done so much for them.

She was dressed in the same black leather pants and black shirt she had worn for Kennedy’s funeral, hadn’t seen a need to change, her mood still matching the colour of her clothes. In her hand she carried just a small ornate little box, the last remaining ashes of her friend and mentor, and as she cradled them, her mind flashed back to the time that she had collected them, gathered them.

She had taken Buffy to the hospital, ascertained that she would be ok, that Giles was there, left him with Willow, and then she had gone. Had retraced her steps and returned to the place it had happened. The place where she had killed him. To the lair. It hadn’t seemed so big when she returned, had seemed eerily quiet, a nowhere special. But the blood which was already leaving stains on the floor, on the altar, spoke the truth. She had bent at the altar, almost on her knees, painstakingly collecting what she could of Angels ashes. Her tears falling steadily to mix with Buffy’s blood, some of that coating the ashes to leave just a paste. She’d managed to collect so little, but to her it didn’t matter. She had some. And at the moment, surrounded by people speaking words about Angel, telling memories... she didn’t care. That she had something, just a little bit to hang onto, that’s what counted.

Almost everyone who had wanted to say something, had been, there was just the last few left, the ones who had known him the longest, perhaps the ones he meant the most to. As a silence started to stretch out, Xander stepped forward. He looked a little uncomfortable, as if he’d never given thought to standing at Angel’s funeral, to what he would say if that was ever the case. He wanted to though. Say something. Felt he should, not for himself, but for the others.

“I uh… well, I guess I should say something…”

He loosened the tie at his neck as he felt all eyes go to him, felt his mind go blank. He didn’t have much in the way of memories to share.

“…I never really liked the guy, you know..? He was kinda creepy… and he drank blood…”

He knew that had sounded wrong as soon as he said it, caught the pointed look from Willow, and tried to recover.

“…but he always dressed really cool. What with the leather… and the hair, his hair was always well styled…”

“Thank you, Xander!”

He flushed as Willow cut him off, glad for the intervention. He never had liked the guy though… not really.

Willow used her interruption as the beginning of her own remembrance. It was such a hard day for her, burying Kennedy, and now this. She was just grateful that she had had the last times that she did with the other girl… the whispers of promises to try again, touches that would stay in her memory forever. It didn’t make her hurt any less, but it meant she didn’t have to live with the added regret of words never spoken. As for what she had to say about Angel… it was also hard.

“I don’t have a lot to say.., not so good at the speeches anyway. I just… I saved Angel’s soul, you know..? It was his job to save other people’s… and it was my job to save his…”

She looked across at Buffy. At Faith stood close by her.

“…but this time I couldn’t.”

Tears looked to push their way down Willow’s cheeks, and as she stepped back, ran out of head space to make more words, she mouthed a silent ‘sorry’ to Buffy.

Buffy saw Willow’s word, smiled an acceptance. She didn’t need an apology from her, laid no blame at her door for not being able to prevent what had happened. But she still accepted the word… to ease Willow’s pain, didn’t want the girl to feel her conscience burdened by ‘what if’s’. By things she wasn’t able to do. Lives she wasn’t able to save.

She was just preparing to step forwards and speak her own quick goodbye, when Faith brushed past her… stood with her back to everyone, looking out to sea. Still holding on tight to the box in her hands, her pitiful last remembrance of someone who had meant the world to her.

“Me next…”

The words sounded so empty as they floated back over her shoulder to the people behind. She couldn’t face them, had kept her glasses on most of the day so she wouldn’t have to look into anyone’s eyes… didn’t wanna share her pain. Her voice continued, flat. Almost devoid of feeling.

“…I’m not so good at this stuff… at saying shit. Things that mean anything. What I feel. But I guess today I have to… got no choice…”

She trailed off for a moment, her breath freezing. Her mind flashing back for the last time, to her final memory of Angel.

It was from her time in prison. She’d never felt so alone in all her life. Even in Sunnydale she had been able to feel hate, had let it wash over her, invade her… give her a reason for existing. But then she had crashed, and then she was there. And she couldn’t feel anything anymore. Had nothing. No reason to go on. No one. She had sat in her cell, not even thinking… just empty. Truly alone. Until a guard had came. She had a visitor… the only one she ever had. Angel. And she wasn’t alone anymore.

“…he did so much for me. He saved me. He loved me. He believed in me when no-one else did… when even I didn’t. I trusted him with my soul…”

Her voice collapsed on her words.

“…he gave me back my soul.”

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