just a little something to get the muse going. Enjoy.
Conversations With Dead People
Rating: G
Spoilers: Season 5
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters nor will I make a profit from this story. Please don’t sue.
Feedback:
rmmik@hotmail.com
Summary: While Willow visits Buffy’s grave, Tara goes for a walk.
It was strange somehow, walking through the cemetery in sunlight. Over the past year and a half I’d spent so much time in cemeteries at night that visiting during the day was almost like running into your school principal on spring break in Miami. Worlds collide sort of thing. But here I was, in Restfield cemetery, at four in the afternoon. In the sunlight it was actually pleasant. It was almost like a park, if you ignored all the graves. It was peaceful. Willow walked beside me, her hand gripping mine. We’d left Dawn with Xander for a few hours. Poor Dawnie, she still wouldn’t speak. We had to beg her to eat. I spent a moment raging silently at the quirks of fate that had taken Buffy from us just as Dawn started to recover from Joyce’s passing.
Buffy. She’d sacrificed everything for us. My memory of the fighting was hazy, I had been fighting through the after-effects of Willow’s spell, but I clearly remember holding onto Willow as the portal opened, and I remember watching the tiny figures far above us. I remember the wet thud the demon Doc made as he hit the ground. I remember seeing Spike crawl toward him to finish the job, and I remember Willow’s gasp. I looked at her, and she was staring straight up at the tower. I followed her line of sight and saw Buffy throw herself into the vortex. I remember how her body jerked and thrashed, and then went still. I remember seeing the portal close and realising Buffy would fall. I turned Willow’s face away and whispered for her to close her eyes. I remember seeing Buffy’s body, and how empty it seemed. Buffy was always such a vital person. She had such energy around her. Her aura always seemed to reach out and wrap itself around the people she cared about. I’m proud to say I was one of them. I owe her a debt I can never repay. If not for her, I would have gone with my father. I would have lost Willow. But now that aura was gone.
It had been three weeks. Willow hadn’t visited the grave or even mentioned her best friend since the funeral. She’d barely spoken at all. And now, after days of persuasion, we were walking through Restfield cemetery, at four in the afternoon, so she could finally begin to grieve.
We walked quietly, each caught up in our own thoughts. Willow’s grip on my hand tightened as we approached our destination. Finally, we reached the slight hill that concealed Buffy’s grave from the rest of the cemetery. Willow had spent two hours hacking into the City Council mainframe to ensure Buffy had a discreet resting place, less likely to be stumbled upon by vampires. Word hadn’t got out that she was dead yet, and that’s how we wanted it to stay. Spike had put the word out that Buffy was away visiting her father, and in a couple of days Willow would finish repairing the robot and we could start patrolling with it. But for now, Willow’s attention was focused solely on the hill and what lay beyond it.
“Sweetie?” I said softly, trying to catch her attention. She turned to face me. Her eyes were wide and a darker green than usual. I kissed her hand and untangled it from mine.
“Go ahead,” I whispered, and took a step back.
“You’re not coming with me?” Willow asked, her voice shaky.
“No, honey, this is something you should do alone. I won’t be far away.”
I watched Willow brace herself. She nodded, once, then turned and walked over the hill. I didn’t want to eavesdrop, so I walked away a little bit with no particular destination in mind. After a few minutes I found myself facing a gravestone. I read the name and smiled. Of course I would come here.
[center]Joyce Summers
Beloved Mother
Devoted Friend
You Will Be Missed[/center]
I traced the dates underneath with my finger, and then sat cross-legged at the foot of the grave. I had planned to visit here before Glory attacked me. When I had finally persuaded Willow to come, I had vaguely entertained the thought of visiting Joyce, and had brought a gift just in case. From my pocket I drew a small envelope. I opened it with a thumbnail and scattered its contents over the soil. The funeral had been long enough ago that grass had begun to grow over the grave, but bare earth was still visible. I had brought seeds. Tulips had been Joyce’s favourite flower, so I had visited the local garden centre and bought a variety of colours. I took a moment to bury each seed in the earth where it had landed, then sat back down again.
“Hey Joyce,” I said softly, “it’s Tara. I’m sorry I haven’t visited before now, but things have been…busy. I don’t know if you know, but Buffy died a few weeks ago. I’m not sure what happens to Slayers after they die, so I thought I should tell you just in case. You would have been proud, Joyce. She saved the world. Again.”
I paused. “Dawn isn’t doing too well. None of us are, really, but Dawnie’s the worst. Will and I moved in to look after her. We took over your room. I hope you don’t mind, but Buffy’s is too small for two people, and it didn’t seem right, somehow, to take hers. Besides, we’re trying to convince people she’s alive. It’s a little macabre, but otherwise the demon population would declare Mardi Gras. We’ll look after it, don’t worry.”
I thought about describing the battles with Glory, but my memories were unreliable at best. Besides, Joyce never wanted to hear about the fights. She was always there afterwards, with a cup of cocoa and a hug, making us all feel human again. A lump rose in my throat. I swallowed against it a couple of times and started speaking again.
“Last night I finally got Dawnie to sleep through the night. I sang her a lullaby and let her wear Buffy’s nightshirt. I wouldn’t normally but she so exhausted I don’t think she has the energy to grieve. We’ll get her sleeping and eating properly before we try and help her, I think.
I’m meeting Anya later. She and I are spending a lot of time together recently. She still has trouble understand death and mortality, so she’s struggling more than most of us. She’s actually fun to be around, even though she’s so frank I sometimes think I’m going to have a nosebleed from blushing so hard. That hasn’t changed, I’m glad to say. It’s good to have some normality right now.
I haven’t seen Giles in a few days. I went over there yesterday but there was no answer. I think he was in there though. I heard music and I think I smelled whisky. If he doesn’t make an appearance tomorrow I’ll go round with the spare key. I know you wouldn’t want him breaking down completely. He loved you and Buffy very much. We all did. We miss you both terribly.”
My voice trailed off and I began to sob. A few minutes passed as I cried quietly. Finally I calmed down and began to speak again.
“Xander is a mess, but I think he’s actually doing the best out of all of us. He came over a few days ago and we cried together and talked about you and Buffy. He’s started cracking jokes again, bad ones, but if they were good we’d
really be worried.” I chuckled, wetly.
“I haven’t seen Spike for a while. He’s taken over patrols since Buffy died. I offered to come with him but he said the others needed me more. He seems fine, but I’m not convinced. I think he really does love Buffy, in his own way. I know you and he liked each other, and I’m fairly sure he stops by here on his patrols now and then. I’ll try and get him to come over. Dawn would like to see him, I’m sure.”
I stopped and tried to think of anything more to say. Nothing came to mind.
“Well, Joyce, I should go check on Willow. Thanks for listening.”
I stood up, brushed off my jeans and headed toward the hill. A thought struck me and I stopped and turned back to the grave.
“Goddess bless and watch over Joyce Summers. She was our mother in spirit if not in name. So mote it be.”
Suddenly there was a rumbling in the ground and I felt Willow’s magic rise. Turning, I sprinted to the hill. Willow was unconscious at the top. I dropped to my knees and felt for her pulse. It was slow but strong. Her eyes opened and she looked at me blearily.
“Tara…did it work?”
I looked down at Buffy’s grave and my mouth dropped open. Where before there had been empty ground there was now a tree, a huge weeping willow, it’s branches brushing the gravestone gently. It was utterly beautiful and I tried not to cry.
“Yeah sweetie, it worked.”
I thought about scolding her for using so much magic, but at that moment she burst into tears and clung to my shirt.
“Oh sweetie,” I whispered instead, “Buffy would love it.”
We stayed like that, me holding my weeping Willow, for an hour or more. At last she wiped her eyes and stood.
“Come on,” she said, looking back at her best friend’s grave once more, “let’s go home.”
Ruth
Login
FAQ
Search
Dibs this is so touching it is very good 
