Five Stages
The morning sun was shining bright in the cloudless sky, birds chirping and everything full of life as Jenny brought the tray of drinks out back. Her mood, however, was less than chipper, and Tara and Anya seemed to be on the same page.
"Thank you, Mrs. Giles," Tara smiled politely, taking the cup of tea Jenny extended to her.
Anya took the second cup with a soft smile, her voice quieter than usual as she murmured a "Thanks," and blew on the steaming liquid, taking a sip.
Jenny set her own cup aside and took a seat at the glass patio table, letting out a sigh. "I suppose you're wondering why I asked you both over."
"Not really," Tara commented quietly. "I-I mean, I think I kinda know why."
"And I'm sorry we have to be out here. I know it's a little warm," she apologized on another sigh, and threw a glance into the apartment. "But Dawn's still asleep on the couch."
Anya nodded, still uncharacteristically understanding and somber. "How is she?"
"She's..." Jenny trailed off, trying to put her thoughts into words, trying to find some way of describing the range of emotion she'd seen Dawn go through in the last twenty-four hours. "Not great," she finally finished. "When she's not asleep, she's crying. And then, she cries so hard that she winds up falling asleep again."
Tara nodded. "Willow's the same."
"Xander won't speak," Anya admitted. "And he's been punching holes in things again."
Jenny nodded, remembering his coping mechanism when Joyce had died. "I'm sorry."
Anya just shrugged. "It's what he does, apparently, when people die. He punches things to feel pain."
"H-How is Giles?" Tara asked.
At that, Jenny shook her head, going into her thoughts briefly as she again struggled to find the right description for her husband's reaction to the death. "I've... never seen him like this before," she finally admitted, and took another sip of her tea.
And it was true. She'd seen him upset by death in the past, but never like this. "I don't know that it's completely registered with him yet, actually. I think he thinks it's not real."
Anya nodded. "So the 'five stages' have begun."
"I think so, yeah."
She remembered the sight of him yesterday morning, when they'd all been standing together staring at Buffy's unmoving form.
He had stepped up to her, knelt down in front of her, and swept the hair off her face. "Buffy..."
She had swallowed hard, holding Dawn with one arm around her as the girl wept into her neck. Struggling to keep her emotions from completely consuming her, forcing herself to be strong, she had called out to her husband. "Rupert."
He had reached down, then, scooping Buffy into his arms with one around her back and the other under her knees. "Buffy?"
When the girl's body went limp in his arms, head and arms lolled back, he had choked on a sob. Willow had gasped and held tighter to Tara while Xander just stared and Anya cried silently. Spike had ducked into the shadows by that time, the morning sun fully exposed, though Jenny could still hear his sobs.
And Rupert had collapsed onto his knees on the ground, still cradling Buffy in his arms, tears streaming steadily down his face as he held the girl close. "Buffy, please..."
Jenny had closed her eyes, choking back her emotion. "Rupert..."
But he hadn't heard her, still holding his Slayer and quietly begging her to open her eyes.
"Where is he now? Sleeping?" Anya asked.
"Passed out, I think, is a more accurate description," she told her, remembering how he'd taken his crystal decanter of scotch up to bed with him last night.
"Jenny?"
The three of them turned at the sound of the fourth voice to join them on the veranda, an exhausted-looking Dawn wrapped in a blanket. Dried tear tracks ran down her cheeks, and there were dark circles under her eyes.
"Dawn." Jenny stood, going over to the girl and fixing the blanket around her shoulders, fingers moving her long hair out of the way. "Sweetheart, what are you doing up? It's early."
"You're up," Dawn reasoned, her stare glassy and unfocused.
"I know, but it's early. And you didn't sleep well last night."
"I'm hungry. And Giles woke me up. I think he broke something."
At that, Jenny furrowed her brows, tossing a glance at the equally-puzzled Tara and Anya. "He broke something?"
"Yeah. I dunno, I heard this really loud crash upstairs, like glass breaking."
Jenny's eyes widened and she ushered the girl inside, her look imploring Tara and Anya to follow. "I should get up there and see what's going on. Tara, would you...?"
Tara nodded her understanding, and reached out to Dawn. "Dawnie, I'll make you some breakfast. Want some cereal?"
Dawn shook her head. "I want pancakes."
Jenny sighed, rushing up the stairs as she heard Anya agree, "Oooh. Yes, I'd like some pancakes too. Do you know how to make pancakes, Tara?"
"Thank you, Mrs. Giles," Tara smiled politely, taking the cup of tea Jenny extended to her.
Anya took the second cup with a soft smile, her voice quieter than usual as she murmured a "Thanks," and blew on the steaming liquid, taking a sip.
Jenny set her own cup aside and took a seat at the glass patio table, letting out a sigh. "I suppose you're wondering why I asked you both over."
"Not really," Tara commented quietly. "I-I mean, I think I kinda know why."
"And I'm sorry we have to be out here. I know it's a little warm," she apologized on another sigh, and threw a glance into the apartment. "But Dawn's still asleep on the couch."
Anya nodded, still uncharacteristically understanding and somber. "How is she?"
"She's..." Jenny trailed off, trying to put her thoughts into words, trying to find some way of describing the range of emotion she'd seen Dawn go through in the last twenty-four hours. "Not great," she finally finished. "When she's not asleep, she's crying. And then, she cries so hard that she winds up falling asleep again."
Tara nodded. "Willow's the same."
"Xander won't speak," Anya admitted. "And he's been punching holes in things again."
Jenny nodded, remembering his coping mechanism when Joyce had died. "I'm sorry."
Anya just shrugged. "It's what he does, apparently, when people die. He punches things to feel pain."
"H-How is Giles?" Tara asked.
At that, Jenny shook her head, going into her thoughts briefly as she again struggled to find the right description for her husband's reaction to the death. "I've... never seen him like this before," she finally admitted, and took another sip of her tea.
And it was true. She'd seen him upset by death in the past, but never like this. "I don't know that it's completely registered with him yet, actually. I think he thinks it's not real."
Anya nodded. "So the 'five stages' have begun."
"I think so, yeah."
She remembered the sight of him yesterday morning, when they'd all been standing together staring at Buffy's unmoving form.
He had stepped up to her, knelt down in front of her, and swept the hair off her face. "Buffy..."
She had swallowed hard, holding Dawn with one arm around her as the girl wept into her neck. Struggling to keep her emotions from completely consuming her, forcing herself to be strong, she had called out to her husband. "Rupert."
He had reached down, then, scooping Buffy into his arms with one around her back and the other under her knees. "Buffy?"
When the girl's body went limp in his arms, head and arms lolled back, he had choked on a sob. Willow had gasped and held tighter to Tara while Xander just stared and Anya cried silently. Spike had ducked into the shadows by that time, the morning sun fully exposed, though Jenny could still hear his sobs.
And Rupert had collapsed onto his knees on the ground, still cradling Buffy in his arms, tears streaming steadily down his face as he held the girl close. "Buffy, please..."
Jenny had closed her eyes, choking back her emotion. "Rupert..."
But he hadn't heard her, still holding his Slayer and quietly begging her to open her eyes.
"Where is he now? Sleeping?" Anya asked.
"Passed out, I think, is a more accurate description," she told her, remembering how he'd taken his crystal decanter of scotch up to bed with him last night.
"Jenny?"
The three of them turned at the sound of the fourth voice to join them on the veranda, an exhausted-looking Dawn wrapped in a blanket. Dried tear tracks ran down her cheeks, and there were dark circles under her eyes.
"Dawn." Jenny stood, going over to the girl and fixing the blanket around her shoulders, fingers moving her long hair out of the way. "Sweetheart, what are you doing up? It's early."
"You're up," Dawn reasoned, her stare glassy and unfocused.
"I know, but it's early. And you didn't sleep well last night."
"I'm hungry. And Giles woke me up. I think he broke something."
At that, Jenny furrowed her brows, tossing a glance at the equally-puzzled Tara and Anya. "He broke something?"
"Yeah. I dunno, I heard this really loud crash upstairs, like glass breaking."
Jenny's eyes widened and she ushered the girl inside, her look imploring Tara and Anya to follow. "I should get up there and see what's going on. Tara, would you...?"
Tara nodded her understanding, and reached out to Dawn. "Dawnie, I'll make you some breakfast. Want some cereal?"
Dawn shook her head. "I want pancakes."
Jenny sighed, rushing up the stairs as she heard Anya agree, "Oooh. Yes, I'd like some pancakes too. Do you know how to make pancakes, Tara?"