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It's quiet.
That's new, Xander thinks, or it's been so long since quiet happened last that it might as well be new. It seems strange that there's no screaming. No clashing of weapons. No snarling of ubervampires. No speeches, even.
They're sitting and lying around a campfire in the desert. They didn't exactly agree to camp here, and they're not exactly camping. They just sat down, in the dust and scrubby bushes, and it got dark.
They made a fire when the sun set and talked for a while. But now everyone's too tired to talk, and they're sleeping, or staring at the fire, or up at the vast sky of stars. Motes of soot and sparks fly upwards to join the sky.
Xander finds himself thinking stupid things about souls flying up to join them. Hallmark grief, and it isn't worthy of her.
He can't cry.
Buffy's fallen asleep, head cushioned by her jacket, with Dawn on her stomach using her as a pillow. Giles is still awake, Xander thinks, although it's hard to tell. His back is turned away from the fire. Too hot, he'd complained, but perhaps he just wanted time to himself, to think whatever wise old watcher thoughts that the battle had given him.
Faith fell asleep first, hours ago. Andrew not long after, despite protestations that he was going to stay up all night to watch the sun rise. Rona and Vi and most of the others followed suit in a domino effect of exhaustion, leaving a few wakeful survivors.
Xander, Giles, Willow and Kennedy ? her head resting on Willow's shoulder, eyes open but unfocussed - are dotted around the circle. Xander catches Willow's eye, and she smiles. But neither makes a move to get up and join the other. There's too much to say and it will all have to wait. Tonight it's time to be quiet and not to try too hard.
This is how our lives unfold, thinks Xander. Things happen, people die. We run, we fight, but nothing is planned, nothing is built. Nothing that doesn't get destroyed.
Hey, maybe it's God's way of telling me to become a Buddhist?
Not that many miles away, there's a hole in the ground, and under that hole, there's...
There's nothing, because she's not there. Anya Christina Emmanuella Jenkins has left the building.
The sparks go up and Xander's eyes close. He lies back with his hands beneath his head. It's getting cold.
The image of Anya with a sword through her chest and blood dripping from her mouth imprints itself behind his eyes.
Stupid brain. Stupid world.
Yeah.
It's all pretty stupid.
That's new, Xander thinks, or it's been so long since quiet happened last that it might as well be new. It seems strange that there's no screaming. No clashing of weapons. No snarling of ubervampires. No speeches, even.
They're sitting and lying around a campfire in the desert. They didn't exactly agree to camp here, and they're not exactly camping. They just sat down, in the dust and scrubby bushes, and it got dark.
They made a fire when the sun set and talked for a while. But now everyone's too tired to talk, and they're sleeping, or staring at the fire, or up at the vast sky of stars. Motes of soot and sparks fly upwards to join the sky.
Xander finds himself thinking stupid things about souls flying up to join them. Hallmark grief, and it isn't worthy of her.
He can't cry.
Buffy's fallen asleep, head cushioned by her jacket, with Dawn on her stomach using her as a pillow. Giles is still awake, Xander thinks, although it's hard to tell. His back is turned away from the fire. Too hot, he'd complained, but perhaps he just wanted time to himself, to think whatever wise old watcher thoughts that the battle had given him.
Faith fell asleep first, hours ago. Andrew not long after, despite protestations that he was going to stay up all night to watch the sun rise. Rona and Vi and most of the others followed suit in a domino effect of exhaustion, leaving a few wakeful survivors.
Xander, Giles, Willow and Kennedy ? her head resting on Willow's shoulder, eyes open but unfocussed - are dotted around the circle. Xander catches Willow's eye, and she smiles. But neither makes a move to get up and join the other. There's too much to say and it will all have to wait. Tonight it's time to be quiet and not to try too hard.
This is how our lives unfold, thinks Xander. Things happen, people die. We run, we fight, but nothing is planned, nothing is built. Nothing that doesn't get destroyed.
Hey, maybe it's God's way of telling me to become a Buddhist?
Not that many miles away, there's a hole in the ground, and under that hole, there's...
There's nothing, because she's not there. Anya Christina Emmanuella Jenkins has left the building.
The sparks go up and Xander's eyes close. He lies back with his hands beneath his head. It's getting cold.
The image of Anya with a sword through her chest and blood dripping from her mouth imprints itself behind his eyes.
Stupid brain. Stupid world.
Yeah.
It's all pretty stupid.
