Daddykat's "Forests Made of Stone Sketches"

Special thanks to Cally at DOUBLE RAINBOW for the beautiful layout and graphics!

Title: Forests Made of Stone;Sketches
Author : Daddykat
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: The characters and settings mentioned herein remain the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy Prod. and assoc. companies. no payment is being received for this writing.
Summary: Hank, Ethan, Giles, Cordelia, and Willow remember.
Spoilers: Assumes knowledge of all character deaths up to Season 6 finale.

1-Mother's Day, 2001
      Riding in the limo from Heathrow Airport, Hank Summers saw a cemetery on the far side of the road . "I suppose they'll be at the gravesite today, my two beautiful little girls, putting roses on their mother's grave. Except they aren't so little anymore. Thank god they had their friends there, I'm honestly sad that they couldn't reach me in time. I guess none of us will ever really know what went wrong between Joyce and me; all of a sudden, it was like we just couldn't live together anymore. But I'll always remember the little things, that sly look on her face at the Homecoming Dance where I first got to know her, the glow she had when she was pregnant with Buffy and Dawn, how great the three of them could look, just girl-talking. Stacie wants a family; maybe I'll know more about getting it right this time."

2- A day in mid-July, 2001
      Ethan Rayne stood outside the prison workshop, having a smoke. He looked up the hill where the prison grave site lay broiling in the Utah sun. The prisoners at this facility were expected to earn their keep, and most of them had unique talents to offer. Since
both the prison itself and the research going on here were Top Secret, the only way out for most inmates led into a six-foot-deep pit on that hillside. A realist in his own way, Ethan had come to terms with that.
          "Ah, Dierdre," he thought to himself, "what was that quote you used to love to say about Caesar ? 'A husband to every wife and a wife to every husband.' And you, Phillip, Tommy, Randy, Ripper, each of you thought I was there mainly because of yourselves. Ol' Ripper was the only one to finally realize I was just there for me; that could be one reason he's still alive and all of you aren't. But, Deedee, I have to say I liked you the best." He stubbed out his cigarette and went back inside.

3- November 18, 2001
          He had moved on, but Rupert Giles couldn't leave town again without stopping by here; he had visited her at least four times a year when he'd lived here. It was a simple stone, no epitaph, just when she was born and died, the years and days, and her name in the Anglicized form, Jenniffer Calendar.
           "It's strange," he mused, " I can't help but wonder, I loved you so much, and I thought you felt the same, but could it really have worked. Forget the betrayals, yours and mine, we eventually would have. But were we really enough alike to make it work ? The only proof of that is in the trying, which we never got to attempt."
            In his imagination, Rupert tried to think of what she might say to that. He pictured her face, her lips moving, that husky voice saying, "Hey, the things we don't get around to are just that, things that never happened. I wonder about it, too, but there it is. You're living your life, which you would have done anyway, and I know you don't lack for little friends. And you definitely don't have to worry about me."
             "Yes, that's what you'd say to me if you could," he said out loud, laying down the single red rose he'd brought, and remained looking at the stone for a few minutes. Then, with just the slightest of smiles, he turned and walked away.

4- March 18, 2002
             The tiny graveyard in West Los Angeles was deserted that afternoon, except for one mourner, a tall, athletic, exotically beautiful woman who walked straight to the grave she had visited so often before. After placing the spray of flowers, Cordelia Chase spoke out loud, "deep down , Allen Francis Doyle, you knew more about me than I did. I thought you passed on the visions to me bacause i was handy, or just to get a quick smooch in before you died. I never knew I was this strong, but somehow I held up, and now I'm okay, thanks to Skip.
           "I'll never forget what you told me, just a couple days before you died. "The idea is to find your real self. Once you do that, you'll know what you can do, and you'll know why you're doing it and who you're doing it for.' Well, sweetie, I know the answers to those questions now. " She stood quietly for a long time after that, together with her memories.

5-October 22, 2002
             The pretty red-haired woman carried a simple bundle of purple flowers, lavendar, lilac, and jacaranda, tied with a metallic silver thread. She had only been here twice before, at the committal in May and again with her best friend a week previously. Willow Rosenberg knelt in front of the gravestone, which said "Tara Jean Maclay, November 1980-May 2002. She Loved And Was Loved", contemplating the flowers and the grass on which she had laid them. It seemed to her that she heard a whispering in the breeze, in a voice she would always remember.
                "I love you, I always will, and I'll always be glad for every day you have, for every moment you live. I tried to be strong for you, to be who you needed, because you were who I needed, and you'll always be part of the light for me here. And wherever you go, I'll be there, whoever you love, I'll love them too. Whatever strength I gave you on earth, it's yours to keep, to use, to live with. Use it. Live for me. I know you can."
                Willow continued to listen, but she heard only the light rustle of the wind. In a hushed voice, she said, "Tara, please don't be disappointed in me, but I don't know if I can." Without sound, tears rolled down her cheeks.