invisiblecompany

"... as we commit her body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust ..."

Willow barely registered the priestess reading out the words, though she knew she should be paying attention, it was the last chance she had to share with ... gods she couldn't think anymore, all she felt was numbness. If she was thinking rationally, she would be suggesting to herself that a monster, a wicked fiend like herself, should not be feeling numb at the sight of death, she should be rejoicing in it.

"You're not a monster. You stopped being a monster the minute I invited you into my room," the beautiful voice in her head said.

For the first time in a long time she felt every inch the shy awkward human seventeen year old self of her appearance, as she was overcome with panicky thoughts.

Wiccans are supposed to be cremated or scattered at sea, why am I burying her? What if she is mad at me cos I’m selfish? What if she can't get into witchy heaven cos I'm not giving her the proper funeral, and the goddesses are pissed? She'll be stuck in the Summerlands forever! How can I find her? How can she find me?

Outwardly, she appeared calm and expressionless, but the assault of the thoughts raged on in her busy head, she clenched her fists until she almost drew blood.

But she felt no pain.

As the ceremony progressed, her senses grew aware of the quiet weeping from some of the attendees. She could hear their sobs, smell their sadness, even taste the saltiness of their tears. It didn't matter if they were human or demon. Dru was distraught and had to be supported by Angel, himself sporting a frown so deep that his eyes almost disappeared underneath his knitted brow. Anya and Halfrek, two of the most feared vengeance demons in all dimensions, were no more than two women clinging onto each other for whatever solace they could get. Cordelia, Joyce and Amy grimly stood next to Clem and Brell. Willy was there too.

Even the slayers and watchers were present. At his age, Giles still stood ramrod straight, even though his face was heavily lined and his hair was almost all white now, a marked contrast to when Willow first met him.

A sweet 15 year old with a crush on her librarian, who would've thought?

Buffy stood with the latest slayer, a young slip of a girl whose name Willow didn't even bother remembering. She didn't spare a glance at the current watcher either, though she knew he was off at the side somewhere, trying to hide his nervousness at all the demons present.

As her eyes traveled across the crowd of attendees, she started to feel the touch of the elements around her. The light magic of the cloud spell she cast over the ceremony so the sun could not affect the attendees who would normally be, um, allergic, flowed effortlessly into the very air that surrounded them. Light magic, which came as naturally to Willow as bloodlust to a fledgling vampire.

She allowed herself a tiny internal smile at the thought of how much she and her love had changed the very fabric of their reality. How the covens and demon overlords virtually pee'd in their pants when they learnt that the evil Master of Sunnydale was able to wield light magic and not be burnt. And how little she cared, light or dark magic didn’t matter, she only cared that she was doing magic with her love.

She tried again to focus on the words of the ceremony, but her spell heightened her awareness of her surroundings. Even the air seemed heavy with the sadness that prevailed in the space marked by the spell. Her grief reached deep into the earth, seeping into the soil, spreading to the tips of every blade of grass, down to the roots of the large oak trees shading the gravestones.

Do you like this spot? I chose it specially for you, I can sit under the oak tree all day and all night.

With impeccable timing, the final segment of the ceremony began just as an imperceptible change in the atmosphere signaled the start of the sunset. The gold-streaked crimson that slowly advanced through the sky washed over her like thick, red blood, piercing her unbeating heart.

A soft but firm touch at her elbow jolted her back to the reality. The priestess had finished, and was looking at Willow expectantly. Willow frowned, then followed her gaze to the casket.

She stared helplessly at the casket, she knew she was supposed to be doing something, giving the signal to move the ceremony to the next stage, but she couldn't. She didn't want this to end, any action would bring them one step closer to the end.

Angel was at her side and he gave the small nod that started the machinery. Willow let out a whimper and covered her ears at the sound of the cables creaking.

This isn't happening. This can't be it.

There was no peroration for this moment. The air was still, even the birds and trees were quiet. The Earth itself seemed to stop moving. The casket (handmade from imported mahogany, only the best for her love) slowly lowered into the hollow that was covered with pleasing, inoffensive green cloth.

Willow knew it was a void, nothing else. The nothingness within her unbeating heart that once held so many rich emotions was reflected in that dark chamber that she insisted on carefully hand-digging herself. No one – nothing – was allowed to touch that space. She made sure of that, with her hands and her magic.

It seemed to take forever, the sinking movement. Inch by inch, foot by foot, until the casket disappeared underneath the green cloth. The machinery stopped with a soft clang. Then it was silent.

All eyes turned to her.

If I were walking toward you, would you be holding your arms out in greeting?

Her feet felt leaden as she walked up to the edge of the green carpet. One more step and she would be at the edge of the chasm. It was the hardest step she had to take in all her lives, human and demon. She stood there while minutes ticked away into the vacuum of her mind and soul. If she had a soul. She knew she had to be the first, she would let no one else be the first.

But it was torture.

She reached down and scooped up a handful of dirt, the fine, red-brown offering from the very earth that would swallow her love. It felt cool, even cooler than her skin. Her hand closed around the earth, she brought her fist up to her lips and she gave it one final lingering kiss. My love, when you are one with the earth, will the demon let me come back and remember you?

Six feet. She had carefully measured, to the exact millimeter. The distance seemed to stretch on forever as the fine particles rained down in slow motion onto the hard wood, scattering with a bounce and a thud before settling all over the surface.

It was her last chance to say something, feel something, know something. But she was blank. She could summon ... nothing ... as she collapsed suddenly to the ground, her legs no longer having the strength to hold her up.

Angel was there in a flash. His grip almost crushing her arm. She looked up at him, and her eyes were empty and desperate.

*****