FIC: Echoes (6/7)

see part one for disclaimer/pairing info

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The baby was crying when Giles entered the front door at Revello Drive. The sound broke his heart anew. He followed the cries upstairs to the nursery that Willow had so loved. There he stood in the doorway and watched as Buffy changed the baby's diaper, soothing her with her words, and then cradled the baby in her arms. There was a long silence, broken only by the little one's indignant hiccups, and then he heard Buffy's voice softly begin to sing.

On through the woods and you go through the snow

walk to the tree and you breathe on the limb

how many times have you seen me with her?

When the night comes and you find that you're bound

tied to the tree and the straps of your knees

how many times have you seen me with her?

I'd say never, aw lover, say never here

Hide in the willow and wait for the dawn

carve another dream in the limb that you're on...

The grief and loss in her voice compelled him forward. He touched her shoulder gently and she turned to face him. Her _expression_ was shattered and her broken heart was wide open in her eyes. He drew her to him, one arm around her and the other helping to support the baby.

She sagged against him, weeping desperately, her hand clutching at the fabric of his shirt. "What am I gonna do, now, Giles?" she begged him. "What am I gonna do now?"

He held her while she cried, knowing there was nothing he could do to ease her pain. When she had finally cried herself out, he took the baby from her. "Introduce me," he encouraged Buffy softly.

She gave him a weak, watery smile. "Rupert Giles, your daughter, Roberta Dawn. Bobbie, this is your daddy."

---

There was no funeral, only a graveside service. The priest from the Catholic church Siobhan attended agreed to do the service. He said a great many comforting things about eternal life and God's love and wisdom, and then he allowed everyone to speak who wanted to.

Xander spoke first, his eyes riveted to the closed casket. "On the first day of kindergarten, Willow cried because she broke the yellow crayon," he told everyone. "She was the most sensitive, kindhearted, courageous and loving person I ever knew. My life is that much less now for her loss."

Giles spoke next. "Willow was an invaluable member of our team," he said softly. "But more than that, she was a precious, beloved soul. She was truly the best of all of us."

Buffy, the baby in her arms, stepped forward then and laid a gentle hand on the glossy wood. "She was my life, my heart and my soul," she said simply, then stepped back again.

Anya spoke then. "I... I don't know much about things like this," she began haltingly, "but I found this poem and Xander said it would be okay to read it. It's by W. H. Auden." She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and began to read.

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead

Scribbling on the sky the message She Is Dead,

Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,

Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

She was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last for ever; I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood,

For nothing now can ever come to any good.

When she was done, there was a long moment of silence as everyone waited to see if anyone else would speak. Just as the priest was about to give the final blessing, a rustle of fabric caught everyone's attention. They all turned to see what it was. At the foot of the coffin, the entire uniformed student body of the Academy had risen from their seats. Nicki Roland, in the front row, took one step forward. She bowed to Buffy and Bobbie. "The students of the Academy wish to formally offer their condolences for the loss of Miss Willow. She was much beloved by all of us, and we all feel keenly her absence." She stepped back to her place and faced the coffin again.

From somewhere inside the crowd of girls, Quontavia West's clear voice came ringing out. "Swing low, sweet chariot," she sang, and was joined by the rest of the students on the response line, "Comin' for to carry me home." They repeated the combination, and then Quontavia sang the verse alone. "I looked over Jordan, and what did I see, comin' for to carry me home? A band of angels a-comin' after me, comin' for to carry me home."

The throbbing final note died away into the silence, and then a low hum began to emanate from the girls. It paused briefly as they all took a breath and then, perfectly in unison, the entire student body began to sing.

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found
Was blind, but now I see.

'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears relieved;
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed!

Through many dangers, toils and snares,
I have already come;
'Tis grace has brought me safe thus far,
And grace will lead me home.

Yes, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess, within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.

When we've been there ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun,
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we first begun.

Once the echoes of their voices had died away, the student body turned as one to salute Buffy, fists over hearts. The priest then delivered the final blessing and the gathered mourners began to disperse. Buffy stood beside the casket until only left with her were Xander, Anya and Giles, who was holding the baby. Xander reached out with a gentle hand and opened the casket.

She lay there, peaceful, her eyes closed and her hands crossed at her waist. "She looks like she's sleeping," Buffy whispered. Her hair, grown long again in the last couple of years, gleamed copper fire in the setting sun where it lay across her shoulders. Buffy reached out and gently stroked Willow's cheek with the backs of her fingers. Willow's skin was soft, as always, and the scent of her favorite perfume hung in the air. The Slayer couldn't speak, though she desperately wanted to. The tears ran down her face as she touched her lover's skin for the last time. Finally she withdrew her hand, dropped to her knees and wept.

---

~~Rainne

******
Buffy: Oh! When I had psychic power, I heard my mother think
that you were like a stevedore during sex... Do you want me to continue?
Giles: Actually, I beg you to stop.
Buffy: What's a stevedore?
--"Who Are You?"--Buffy ep 4x16--
******

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