30. Sunrise

Buffy thought it was the most beautiful sunrise she had ever seen. Everything was beautiful. Everything fit, had a purpose. And this was her purpose, her gift. She leapt.

Giles wondered exactly when he had stopped preparing himself for Buffy's death. How many apocalypses had it taken? He had known that someone, possibly all of them, would be dead by sunup. But he never thought it would be Buffy.

This time, Anya knew that what she was thinking was inappropriate, and she didn't give it voice. She wanted to cast the thought from her mind, it didn't seem right. But she couldn't help thinking, she looks so pretty in the morning light.

Xander didn't understand what was happening. Buffy was dead. The world should be over. At least the heavens should open up, and there should be angels, or birds, or something. Or the ground should tremble, and there should be lightening, and the earth should be plunged into blackness for a day of mourning. Something like that, Xander would be able to accept. But this... this didn't make any sense. They shouldn't be standing around, staring, like morons; the sun shouldn't be shining away happily, like everything's the same. Like Buffy wasn't dead

Willow would have been angry with the sun. She would have blotted it out herself, if she could have. She would have tried. But she was crying too hard, it was difficult to breath, and she was so tired.

Things were still muddled for Tara. She had been in the dark for so long that the light spreading over the horizon was blinding to her. If she squinted, she could almost see, in silouhette... but she didn't have to. All Tara had to do was look at Willow, and she knew what had happened.

The sun was taunting him. Spike hadn't been able to save Buffy, and now it was preventing him from going to her, mocking his impotence. He could blame anyone -- Glory, Doc, the Scoobies, Dawn, even Buffy herself -- but Spike knew it was his fault she was dead. He cursed himself for being too much of a coward to throw himself on her body, and burn up in the morning rays.

It was dawn, and she was all alone. Never in her life, not even when their mother had died, had she felt so lost and helpless. She wanted to crawl someplace dark and warm, and just cry, cry until there was nothing left. Or, dissolve into a mass of energy -- it didn't seem so bad now; she would be free of this world, and could find Buffy and her mom, wherever they were. Or... live. She thought of Buffy's last words to her, and pushed away the dark thoughts, as much as she wanted to simply let them engulf her. She pushed them away, and found a part of herself, the part that owed the most to Buffy, that was strong and brave, and determined. Dawn walked out of the shadow of the tower towards her friends. Looking at the sky, she felt for a moment that she was seeing what Buffy saw before she jumped. It really was a beautiful sunrise.