From where he watched he couldn't hear the minister, but he knew the words. He ought to, as many funerals as he'd attended, even though his presence at them had mostly been in mockery or sadistic triumph - for he'd been the cause of most of them.

The late afternoon sun shone palely through the clouds in the dreary winter sky, fitting ambiance for a funeral. The mourners were gathered into two distinct clusters. One group, composed of a smartly dressed woman in her sixties, a tall, willow young man in his thirties, and another woman much younger than the first, possibly forty, he assumed were business associates.

The other group he knew very well indeed - that is, except for the young woman beside Willow. Her he didn't recognize. Nor the stocky man with the grim face standing next to Buffy, although he was fairly confident it was her father. Come to think of it, he didn't know who the young girl was either; the one who was crying and who Buffy's father had his arms around. But with one other exception the rest were old acquaintances - as humans considered these things, anyway. The exception stood beside Buffy. Riley Finn, the man who'd replaced him in Buffy's life.

Wesley and Cordelia stood together, slightly apart from the others. Xander stared at the ground, his expression somber, as was Anya's as she leaned against him. Willow's hands were linked with her companion's; the aura of love between them was almost palpable. But he spared only a glance for these others; they were not his concern. It was Buffy he'd come here for; Buffy he watched unwaveringly, Buffy for whom his heart ached.

"Earth to earth; ashes to ashes; and dust to dust."

He saw Giles, standing behind Buffy, look at her with a worried expression and put a hesitant hand on her shoulder. Riley, on Buffy's other side, had his arm around her comfortingly. Buffy gave no sign of being aware of either of them. Even from this distance he could tell that her eyes were bleak. Bleak and dry.

The service finally droned to an end, and the trio of business associates drifted over to the family to offer their condolences. Buffy smiled and shook hands and, he was sure, made the appropriate responses, but it was mechanical, all on the surface. When the last person, the elderly woman, had shaken her hand and proceeded at a sorrowful pace to her car, she resumed staring at the casket.

"Buffy." Her father touched her arm. "It's time to go."

Go? Go where, she wondered. Back to the house that was no longer a home, because the person who'd made it their home was gone forever? "You go on," she said. "I'll be there in a little while. I have to say goodbye first."

Hank Summers looked helplessly at his eldest daughter. Nothing in his life had prepared him for this. Joyce had always handled the weddings and funerals - even when his own parents died, she'd been the one who taken care of all the dozens of details that spring up following a death. But now Joyce was gone, Dawn was a wreck, and Buffy an emotionless robot. He didn't know what to do.

"I'll bring her home," Riley told him quietly. Hank turned to him with utmost gratitude. "Thank you." He
gave Buffy one more concerned look, then helped Dawn across the immaculate lawn.

"Buffy, I'm so sorry." Wesley approached, Cordelia at his side. "I hardly knew your mother but she seemed like a fine person."

"Thank you," she replied. "She was." To Riley's surprise, she didn't ask the obvious (to him) question about Angel's whereabouts, something he wondered about greatly.

Cordelia now spoke, hesitantly. "Buffy, I know we haven't been exactly the best of friends, but... if there's anything I can do please let me know."

Buffy managed a slight smile. "I will. Thanks." There was a short silence, then with goodbye nods Cordy and Wesley left.

"I'd like to be alone for a minute," Buffy now said. She cast an appealing glance upward. Riley nodded. "I'll wait by the car." She smiled her thanks and turned her attention back to the casket. He walked up the gentle slope, joining Giles and the others as they waited by the curb.

"How is she?" Giles inquired.

Riley shook his head. "Not good. A few tears now and then, but not the big storm I know she's holding back."

"Riley, you have to help her," Willow urged. "She can't keep locking up her grief like this."

"I know," Riley agreed, making a helpless gesture with his hands. "But what can I do? If I try to press her, she just walks away. She's so far away I don't even know if I can reach her now."

Giles sighed. "All through her mother's illness Buffy felt she needed to be strong, for Dawn's sake as well as for Joyce's. I fear that it has now become a habit, and we all know how hard habits are to break."

"If she doesn't break this one, it'll end up breaking her," Cordelia offered, surprisingly.

"I'm very much afraid you're right." With worried frowns, they all looked down to where Buffy stood at the gravesite of her mother.

Buffy put her hand on the pearly surface of the casket. It really was a beautiful shade of silvery gray, and the enormous spray of flowers atop it were Joyce's favorite Peace roses. "I'm sorry, Mom. I'm sorry for all the worry I caused you. I should have told you about being the Slayer long before I did, then at least you wouldn't have thought that I was involved in a gang."

She smiled faintly. "Of course, you would still have worried anyway." The smile faded. "I love you and I miss you so much." Tears threatened, but she forced them back, blinking hard. "Goodbye."

Angel watched her trudge up the hill, get into a car with Riley at the wheel, and drive off, followed by the rest of the gang. Only two hours until the sun set - ninety minutes if he didn't mind getting the
equivalent of a mild sunburn - and then he'd make his way to Buffy's house. Hopefully he'd find a chance to speak to her alone, without Riley's presence. He couldn't help it; the mere sight of that youngster made his hackles rise, and the last thing Buffy needed right now was another confrontation between the two of them.

Giles looked around as a motion caught the corner of his eye. It was Buffy, disappearing into the kitchen. He waited a few moments to see if anyone else - Riley, for instance - had noticed, but apparently he was the only one. Xander and Anya had left about forty minutes earlier; Willow and Tara had valiantly hung in there until the silences grew just too awkward; they'd been gone about twenty minutes. Hank was sitting on the couch with Dawn, trying to get to know Riley, who like the well-mannered young man he was, was politely answering all his questions. Giles slipped up the stairs just in time to see the back door close behind Buffy.

Standing on the back porch, Buffy lifted her face to the almost dark sky and closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around herself. It was cold, at least for Southern California - in the mid fifties - but the real chill was inside herself. She felt like a pillar of ice, cold and numb. All at once something moved, not physically, but somewhere inside, a feeling she'd experienced before. Her heart, her soul - she had never been sure just where she felt it, but she knew what it was. She opened her eyes and there he was, walking across the backyard toward her.

"Buffy." He held out his arms and she went into them without a thought.

"Angel. I knew you'd come." His arms folded about her and held her close; she felt him drop a kiss on the top of her head. A huge sigh shuddered through her body.

"Why didn't you tell me? I would have come sooner."

Buffy shook her head. "I couldn't," she said, her voice muffled by his sweater. "I had to be strong, and if you'd been here..." She didn't finish.

Angel kissed the top of her head again. "Even Slayers are allowed to grieve, Buffy."

"I couldn't do anything, Angel," she whispered. "I watched her dying a little more each day, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Isn't that ironic? I'm the Slayer, maybe the most powerful woman alive. I can kill vampires and fight demons and prevent Armageddon, but I couldn't save my own mother." Tears welled up and began spilling over onto her cheeks.

She gave a little sob, and then another, and then broke down completely. "Oh, God, Angel, she's dead. My mother's dead." She couldn't speak anymore, only cry.

Angel held her; it was all he could do. Finally, when her crying didn't abate, he picked her up and carried her over to the wrought iron bench, where he sat down, Buffy still in his arms. She curled up on his lap and cried even harder, huge gulping sobs that came from the depths of her aching heart and shook her entire body.

"Shh," he whispered, his own eyes wet. "It's okay, mavourneen. You don't have to be strong anymore. It's okay." He smoothed her hair and instinctively began a slight rocking motion.

Giles, watching discreetly through the kitchen window, breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief. "Thank you, Angel," he murmured. He turned and almost jumped out of his skin. Riley was standing not two feet from him, also looking through the window at Buffy and Angel.  "Er... Riley." Giles cast around desperately for something to say.

"Did you call him?"

Giles braced himself. "I did. He had a right to know, Riley, and - " He stopped, not wanting to say to Buffy's boyfriend that Buffy would have wanted Angel to know.

"It's all right," Riley said quietly. "I know how it is between them. I've known for a long time. The important thing is that now she can start to heal." Despite his brave words, his hurt and pain were clearly revealed on his honest features. Giles clapped him on the shoulder sympathetically, then turned and left Riley standing there, staring out the window.

Angel glanced down. After what seemed like hours, Buffy had finally cried herself out, and almost immediately fallen asleep. He brushed a few silky strands of hair off her face, regarding her tear-swollen features with immense tenderness and love and sorrow. Sorrow for all the hurt she was going through and that there wasn't anything he could do to make it better. Hearing footsteps, he looked up.

"Is she asleep?" Giles whispered.

Angel nodded. "I think if I can get her to her bedroom without waking her, she'll sleep through the night. Will you get the door for me?" Giles led the way, holding the kitchen door open for Angel to pass through. He carried Buffy through the house, surprised to find it empty.

"Where is everyone?"

"Mr. Summers took Dawn out to dinner. Riley... went home."

Dawn? thought Angel. He faltered a moment, suddenly stricken with dizziness, and leaned against the wall until it passed, which it did in a few seconds. Of course, Dawn was the girl he'd seen with Buffy's father. How could he not have recognized Buffy's little sister, even if she had grown since he'd last seen her? She hadn't changed *that* much. It just showed how worry could affect even a vampire's memory.

Giles opened the door to Buffy's bedroom, and preceded them, pulling down the covers on the bed. Angel carefully set her down, removing his arm from behind her neck with care so as not to wake her. Giles helped him take off her shoes, then covered her with the sheet and quilt. At that point Angel recalled Giles' other comment.

"Did you say that Riley went home?"

"Yes." Giles paused. "He... saw you, Angel. Out in the yard."

Angel looked at him sharply. "Saw me with Buffy, you mean?" Giles nodded. Angel bit his lip. "Damn. Is that going to cause trouble for her? She can't handle a scene right now."

"I don't think so. Right now I'm feeling very sorry for Riley."

"What?" Angel was surprised. "Why?"

Giles looked straight at him. "Because he really loves her, Angel."

"I know," Angel said shortly, not wanting to think about that relationship.

Giles continued, "But Buffy doesn't love him, and I'm afraid that he knows it."

Angel licked his lips. "You... don't think Buffy loves him?" Giles just gave him a look. "She loves you, Angel. I think that's pretty obvious." He straightened. "Well, I'm going now. Are you staying here with Buffy?"

Angel nodded absently, his mind on what Giles had just said. "As long as I can, yes." Until the approaching dawn would force him to leave, he meant. Giles nodded, understanding. "Good night, then. I'll, er, leave a note for Mr. Summers that Buffy is sleeping."

"Good night," Angel replied. Giles left the room, and he was alone with Buffy. Angel knelt beside the bed and took Buffy's hand. A couple of hours passed, and still she slept. Mr. Summers and Dawn had come home - he'd heard them discussing Giles' note - and gone to bed with only a quick look-in on Buffy which he'd easily evaded by stepping into her closet, as he'd done once before, years ago. Once they'd settled in, silence reigned again except for muffled sobs from Dawn's room, and before long those also ceased.

The night wore on. Weariness tugged at Angel's eyelids, but he fought against falling asleep, not wanting to miss a moment of being with Buffy. Finally he could resist no longer, and, first kicking off his
shoes, stretched out on the bed next to her, telling himself it couldn't do any harm just to catch a few winks. He quickly fell into a sleep almost as exhausted as Buffy's.

"Angel."

He stirred, slow to rouse.

"Angel, wake up."

He opened his eyes. Buffy was awake, lying on her side facing him. "Hi."

"Hi," she whispered. "It'll be sunrise in a couple of hours."

Angel already knew that. "How are you feeling?"

Buffy managed a wan smile even as her eyes filled. "Terrible, of course. What do you think?"

Angel stroked her hair off her face. "I think that you're grieving for your mother," he said softly, "and that you'll continue to grieve for a long time. And that's the way it should be, Buffy. You loved your mother and now she's gone, and some part of you will always mourn her passing."

Her tears spilled over. "Yes." She cried for a short while, snuggled against him, then there was a few minutes where they simply held each other in silence.  Finally she said, "Thank you for coming, Angel."

"Anytime," he murmured, looking into her eyes. "You know that."

"I know," she murmured in reply. They moved closer and kissed. For Angel the touch of her lips after so long was like being reborn. For Buffy, it was coming home again. When finally, reluctantly, they parted, she asked, "You're going back to Los Angeles when you leave here, aren't you?"

"I have to." He met her eyes.

"I know." And he knew that she did, that she'd accepted, however reluctantly, that they couldn't be together. That acceptance did nothing for the pain they both felt, however. Suddenly Angel found himself telling her something he'd sworn to himself he wouldn't reveal.

"Buffy, there's a prophecy that someday, after the End of Days, if I survive, I'll become human."

"What?" She looked dazed.

"I don't know when," he hurried to add, "I mean, it could be decades from now, or I might not survive the final battle - "

"Human?" she interrupted. "Really human? No curse? No happiness clause?"

"It might not happen for years," he repeated. The growing light in her eyes kept him from protesting any further.

"I'll wait," she said simply. "If I'm still around, I'll be waiting for you."

Silently he kissed her again, wishing with all his soul that he didn't have to leave. But his vampiric senses told him the dawn was approaching fast, and he'd have to hustle to make it back to L.A. before the sun rose dangerously high.

Buffy went with him to the front porch. Silently they faced each other and exchanged a long farewell kiss, then silently Angel turned and walked to his car. Another long look, then Angel got inside his car and drove off. Buffy watched for a minute before slowly walking back into the house.

And from his car, parked two houses down, Riley saw it all.