He's here.
She doesn't know why she ever expected otherwise. Why she thought that maybe, just maybe, he really didn't care; that he wouldn't show. But there he is, standing all alone under the shade of a broad oak tree-- -
because it's as close as he can get, as long as the sun is still up.
And that image of him, staying there all by himself, strikes a chord within her; because no one should have to be alone, not when someone they cared about is being lowered into the cold, hard ground.
So she breaks away from the mourning crowd; away from Willow and Tara, each of whom had one arm around her (as if she'd crumble and break without them, and maybe they're right about that), and makes her way over to him.
"Hey, Spike..."
