Epilogue

He’d been back, so to speak, for three weeks. Principal Synder had bought the excuse the Scoobies had dreamed up, and the lease on his apartment was still current.

Everything was as it had been.

Except for a few details, of course. Tape on the floor of the library, marking danger zones where sunlight was likely to be. A mini-fridge full of pig’s blood in his office. No more Jenny.

But then, the children still came as they always did, today full of bubbling enthusiam over the end of exams. Willow still smiled at him with the brightness of a dozen suns, Oz was still laconic but astute, Cordelia was still... Cordelia...

And Buffy... Buffy was quiet, but she was recovering.

And he was still the Watcher, reading the books, making suggestions. Doing his duty even if that git Wesley was, technically speaking, Buffy’s official Watcher now.

Life went on.

But he wasn’t alive.

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