Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with BtVS. At least, I don't think so. Hang on a sec while I ask Uncle Joss.An English Dawn
It was a cold, grey dawn. One of those ones that made people wince, turn away from the window, and put another log onto the fire.
It was an English dawn.
In the distance, dark and ominous, thunder growled.
It was the perfect morning for a funeral.
Again, Buffy glanced around. No-one else here, and she, too, felt out of place. Aside from a couple of conversations, the second one five years ago, she hadn’t really known Ethan at all.
But she came.
She came because she knew that Giles would have wanted her to.
And, even though she felt as out of place as she did, standing almost alone, in this cemetery, she was glad that she had.
Ethan, the grey sorcerer; had outlive everyone, both dark and light alike, so maybe there was something to be said for grey.Everyone deserves to be remembered by someone.
She closed her eyes for a few moments, and simply let herself breath in the chill air, wincing as the sharpness stung her lungs.
The service was almost non-existent. For some reason she’d been expecting a last-second rush, but nothing of the sort was happening.
Finally, just as the promised drizzle began to fall, things were wrapped up, and she was left there, completely alone.
She should probably say a few words or something, she knew, but she couldn’t really think of anything that would have been suitable. Closing her eyes, she listened to a bird, trilling in a distant tree.
She almost jumped, her eyes flashing open, as she was startled back to where she was. A regular person shouldn’t have been able to sneak up on her like that.
“Miss Summers?” Again, the man questioned. He was wearing a sharp-looking business suit, and was holding a sensible black umbrella above his head.
“Yeah. Who wants to know?” She tilted her head to one side, as she peered at him.
He extended one hand, “Miss Summers, I’m Arthur Perry, with Wolfram and Hart, the law firm. I need you to come with me, and sign several papers concerning the late Mister Rayne’s estate.”
She gave up trying to pretend she knew what was happening here, “Can you say that again, in common English please?”
He shifted a few papers over, and extracted a pile of forms, and a plain white envelope, which he handed over to Buffy.
“Mister Rayne’s will was very specific, Miss Summers. The letter there, explains everything, but the basic gist of it is that if you were in attendance, then it’s all yours.”
She opened the envelope, and drew out the folded paper from inside.Buffy.
I was never really one for making friends, and nor was I a people-person, but I’m hoping that although we only spoke twice, I can call you a friend.
Let me be frank, here. I have no children, and no family left.
And there are very few people around who will remember me.
I have no illusions.
I was not a well-liked man.
Thank-you for what you said to me. It has made a difference in my life, and now, hopefully, I can make a difference in yours, in a good way.
There’s a small estate in London, an account with a nicely discrete Swiss bank account, and a few little odds and ends, in varying degrees of usefulness.
Story of my life, really…
All that I ask is that you don’t let the Council get their hands on any of it.
Be Seeing You.
Silently, she folded the paper and slid it back in, to keep it safe.
Of all the things she’d expected, this hadn’t been one of them. She’d never really thought of Ethan as having anything to leave behind.
Again, he’d gotten the last word in.
She’d have to stop by the cemetery on the way back.
At least she’d have something to say to him.
Even if it was only thanks.