Oz stood at the foot of the grave as the casket was lowered into the cold
ground. The day was sunny, far too sunny for a funeral, but what did you
expect in LA? The small hand that was clutching Oz’s hand squeezed tighter.
He looked over to Willow to see one tear streaming down the side of her face.

Oz couldn’t believe Buffy had died. Looking over to Willow, Xander, and
Cordelia he realized that they had been more prepared for this. They could be
since they had lived so far away. Oz had been there for these past ten or
eleven years, had seen Buffy on a semi-regular basis. And every time he saw
her, he noticed how full of life she was. She tried so hard to not let her
destiny bring her down and survived longer than most Slayers ever dream to,
but still he remained in shock. He hadn’t cried for her yet, but thought that
once the reality hit that he would probably cry harder than any of her really
*close* friends had.

Looking around Oz was slightly surprised about how many people had attended
the funeral. There were people from Buffy’s work, friends of her parents,
Christ, even her lawyer was there. But none of these people had ever really
known Buffy, had never known the trials she had had to face. Even her own
father had never known about Buffy’s destiny.

Oz hated that all of these people were here. The only people who should be
here were her parents and the Slayerettes, as they had called themselves in
high school. None of the other people even really knew what had killed her,
they didn’t know that a psychopathic vampire had tortured her with railroad
spikes, starved and raped her repeatedly before finally draining her of all
of her blood.

As he watched Joyce throw a handful of soil over her daughter’s grave, images
of all of the things Oz had witnessed flashed before his eyes. The time she
had blown that Judge guy up with the rocket launcher, the time she had killed
that super-zombie with the shovel, and the time that she had killed that
vampire when they were in college, walking to the dorms from the coffee
house. None of the people from her work would know how many times she had
saved their lives. None of her parents friends would know the forces she had
thwarted time and time again. Her father would never know the cruel fate that
his daughter had had to live with.

Willow tossed a white lily in on the coffin. Oz remembered the cute girl
chats that she and Buffy would have at the Bronze, sometimes forgetting that
he was even there. They had been so close, but he wondered if his love hadn’t
already mourned for her friend. No, she had been in mourning since the day
she and Buffy had met.

Xander tossed in a flower of his own, also a white lily. Xander had a
developed a mask while he was in the army. Sure, he still used his sense of
humor as a shield, but Oz could take one look into his eyes and knew that
Xander was really hurting inside. Next to Oz, he was probably the least
prepared for this. Xander had had the most faith in Buffy, he had believed
that Buffy would win every time. That she would beat her destiny and maybe
even live to a ripe old age. But there was also a firm acceptance hidden in
him.

Looking passed Xander, Oz’s gaze settled on Giles. Next to Giles, Wesley
stood with his hand on Giles’ shoulder, offering him support. Oz laughed
inwardly that Buffy had never really figured out the relationship between the
two men. Until the day she died she refused to think of them as anything more
than room mates. The both of them had allowed her to believe this
misconception, thinking that she must have actually guessed the truth. But Oz
didn’t think she had. Buffy could be incredibly childish, for some one who
had had maturity pushed on to her.

Oz sympathized most for Giles. Giles would have to come back here tonight to
see if she would rise. Oz sincerely hoped that his friend had not been
changed in the process of her death. He didn’t think that he would be able to
stake her and had no doubt it would be just as hard for Giles. Giles had
thought of Buffy as he would his daughter, his tie to her probably the
strongest she had made.

The crowd started to move away from the grave as the grounds men began
shoveling the dirt onto the coffin. They moved towards their cars eager to be
away from a death that wouldn’t really effect them. Not realizing that today
they had witnessed the burial of a true hero.

As these people began to move away, few stayed. Oz, with Willow still
clutching his hand. Xander and Cordelia standing close to each other for the
first time in years, trying to offer support to one another. Giles with his
companion to one of his sides and Joyce, Buffy’s mother at his other side,
clinging to his hand.

As they all stared in silence at the grave of their friend and savior, Oz
thought of how incomplete their circle was. One person was missing. The one
who loved her the best and most. Angel. Oz hoped that Angel would find out
about Buffy’s death. No one had known how to get a hold of him to inform him
of his love’s passing. And he hoped that when he heard, he would find the
vampire that had done this and make him pay.

After he saw Giles guide Joyce away, towards his car, Oz decided that it was
time to go. Tugging on her hand, Oz started guiding Willow to his car. He
wrapped one arm around her shoulders and allowed her to rest her head on his
shoulder as they walked away from their friend. The person that had kept them
and everyone together.