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Chapter 39
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"Are you sure it's a good idea?"  Buffy knew the net was tightening around all their operations.  The GHI was not made up of total fools and they couldn't count on their luck to hold forever.
 
"Think it's essential, pet. Just look at Red over there," he nodded towards Willow.  "Hasn't said more than two words to anyone since she found out her grandfather was killed by those berks.  Don't think we want her puttin' on her witch's hat and implodin', do we?"
 
"Of course not, but we also don't want another blow that would guarantee setting her off either."
 
"Not gonna happen," Spike wrapped an arm around Buffy and kissed her furrowed brow.  "Got our best guys on it and everythin' in place to make it as safe as possible."
 
"I hope you're right."
 
 
***
 
"May God console you together with all mourners of Zion and Jerusalem." Saul Goldstein felt the weight of sadness press in on him as he shook hands with the mourners at the graveside of his dear friend and cantor, Chaim Rosenberg.  The dark clouds that had covered Sunnydale all day had given over to a steady rain that the Rabbi felt fitting for the occasion.  It was as if the heavens themselves cried at the loss of such a man.
 
"Thanks, Rabbi," Ira Rosenberg shook his hand after releasing a handful of dirt upon his father's lowered coffin.  "I don't know what got into the old man.  He was always so sensible while I was growing up, not running around playing Don Quixote for a bunch of…well, whatever they are, they aren't human anyway.  I used to look up to him as a kid, but I think he may have been suffering from dementia or something.  I should have taken him to the doctor and demanded tests."
 
Sheila Rosenberg threw in her handful of dirt and placed a gentle hand on her husband's back.  "He was too feisty to let us take him anywhere he didn't want to go, Ira."
 
"Your father was not senile; he was simply a man of good conscience," Rabbi Goldstein chided gently.  A funeral was not the place for a lecture after all.  "He devoted his life to helping others and died with dignity."
 
An indignant Ira straightened his back in affront. "How is it dignified running around LA breaking into places and interfering with the law?"
 
"He died for a cause he believed in, trying to save lives."
 
"He died tilting at windmills," Sheila replied, her mouth set in suppressed anger.  Really, one of the reasons she and Ira avoided the Synagogue was because of fanaticism like this!  She missed her Professional Ladies group but really wished there were another congregation in Sunnydale to join.  "He also encouraged our only daughter down that same path.  Oh, I'm not putting all the blame on him," she reassured Ira.  "Willow was already involved in shady business ever since her friend Bunny came to town." 
Ira patted his wife's hand in commiseration. "I know, sugarplum.  And now our little girl didn't even attend her own grandfather's funeral!"
 
Sheila looked at the not inconspicuous group of GHI soldiers who had been observing the group of mourners, clearly looking for someone.  She only hoped Willow wasn't the target of their search.
 
"Attending a funeral isn't nearly as important as attending the living," the Rabbi reminded them.  "Willow and Chaim were very close.  She has nothing to be ashamed of by not being here in the flesh."
 
"I just can't like this business."  Ira gave a sad look at his father's grave and walked to their car, Sheila on his arm.
 
The Rabbi took the extra keriah he'd torn to represent Willow and put the black ribbon in his pocket as he walked to his own vehicle.  The dark sedan had tinted side windows that made it impossible to see into the back seat.
 
He took a quick, casual  look around before entering the car.  The group of soldiers seemed to have lost interest and left after the mourners had scattered.
 
"I wish I could have been at the graveside, Rabbi," a timid voice sounded from the back.
 
"I know, dear, but it wouldn't have been safe."  He reached into his pocket and took out the torn black mourner’s ribbon and an envelope.  "These are for Willow.  Be sure to tell her I'll be there after sundown to sit Shivah with her.  I'll bring Jonathan with me, along with the candles."
 
Tara looked back at the gravesite now awash with rain.  "I know it's killing her not to be here herself."  Tara had improved wonderfully during her time at the farm.  All that was left to mark her ordeal was a slight limp when she was tired.
 
"Chaim would want her safe.  If she placed herself in danger just to put in an appearance at his funeral, he would have my head!  What is important is that she was there with him in life."
 
Tara nodded, “That’s true.  What we do while our loved ones are living is what counts in the end."  She bit her lip, “Maybe I should have...I don't know...sent flowers at least."
 
The Rabbi smiled, "We don't do funeral flowers, honey.  Flowers are for joyous occasions and Jewish custom doesn't think it fits with the mood.  Flowers are also for the living."
 
"Maybe we'll plant a tree in his honor when all this is done.  Do you think he'd like that?"  Tara grieved not only for the man she had barely gotten to know and also for the girl she loved with all her heart.  She knew Willow was closer to her grandfather than any of her family.  "We can make it a way for Willow to get some closure.  Do you think they'd let us plant a willow tree here by his grave?
 
"I think he'd be very pleased.  Since I'm on the board that runs the cemetery, I can guarantee we'll approve the planting."
 
*** 
 
"Tara!" Willow threw herself into the arms of her dearest love.  "How?  Why?  No…how, that's the question.  You're supposed to be at the farm with Wesley."  How did you get here?"
 
Tara looked over Willow's shoulder and gave a half grin at the vampire standing against the wall.  "Oh, someone arranged for me to get here in time for the funeral."
 
Willow began to sob, "I couldn't even go!"
 
"I know, sweetie, but he knew you were there in spirit and I kinda represented you as much as I could,"
 
Spike pushed off from the wall, his face startled.  "Hope you didn't get seen, luv."
 
"No, I stayed in the Rabbi's car through the service, but I was there anyway.  You were right," she addressed Spike, drawing everyone's puzzled eyes to him.
 
"Happens from time to time," Spike chuckled.  "How many?"
 
"About seven that I could see.  I didn't recognize any of them, but that doesn't mean they wouldn't know to look for me," Tara responded.
 
"While I am delighted you're back with us, much to my surprise," Giles gave a pointed glare at Spike.  "Just what was Spike right about?"
 
"Soldiers watching the funeral," Tara shivered a bit then looked at Willow compassionately.  "It really was a good idea for you not to go."
 
"So," Willow turned and looked at Spike,  "Does this mean you're the one who sent for Tara?"
 
Spike looked sheepish. "Figured you needed her 'bout now.  She was wantin' to be here anyway."
 
Willow stunned him by wrapping him in a tight embrace, “Thank you.  You don't know how much I needed her."
 
Spike gave her an uncomfortable hug and looked at Buffy, "Think I understand, pet. Some burdens are best carried when someone you love helps."
 
"The Rabbi said to give these to you and also to tell you he'd bring candles for the ceremony after sundown.  He said he might not be able to come for the full seven nights, but Jonathan would be here at least."
 
Willow took the proffered envelope and looked at her name written on the front in her grandfather's script.  "What's this?"
 
"He said that your grandfather wrote something to give to you in case he didn't make it back.  The rabbi also said that he was to tell you not to worry about coming to the funeral; he knows you loved him."  Tara took the torn black mourner’s ribbon and pinned it to Willow's shirt above her heart.  "Do you want us to leave you alone to read it?"
 
Willow squeezed Tara's hand. "Will you sit with me?"
 
"Of course, sweetie, I'm here for you."
 
Willow opened the envelope and began to read.
 
My dearest Willow,
 
I am so proud of you, my little Ginger Pixie. You are smart as a whip, but your heart is not puffed up with pride.  You care about others and are true to the self God made.  I could not have asked for a better granddaughter.  You were always a precious child, but I've seen you grow to be a woman of integrity and worth.
 
I admire your judgment as well. You've chosen well with your Tara.  She has the tender heart of a nurturer and I know that your heart will be safe with her.  You chose your friends wisely also and made an extended family you can build on and rely upon throughout your life.  I am proud that you made friends not only among our own kind, but you have a heart big enough to embrace those others who share our world.  Anya and Spike are both very worthy of your affections. Both have proven that it is not what you are but what you do that matters in the end. They also are a fine example to all that no matter what bad choices we might have made, a pure and loving heart can always earn forgiveness and love if given the opportunity. I know I leave you in safe hands.
 
If you are reading this, then the mission did not go so well with me.  I pray it is true only of me and that the others managed to accomplish what we had hoped.  Your friend Anya deserves her freedom and these monsters need to be stopped.  The risk was worth it if we accomplish something to help bring those things about.  Do not be bitter, Pixie.  I knew there was a chance that this old man would not return.
 
I was not the father I should have been to your dad.  I was too busy building up the firm and making a success to provide the best for my family.  I tried to make Ira the sort of man I could be proud of and I AM to a great degree.  I wish he had been closer to you and less like me with the concentration on the practice.  He never embraced the Jewish community as I did.  I was proud to be Cantor at the Synagogue and a respected elder in time. For all my accomplishments, I wish I had made sure Ira valued you and the truly important parts of living more than he has.  Do not blame your father; he is only following my poor example.  I wanted to make a better world for my family but forgot some of the most important ingredients.
 
The times we are living in were not what I hoped for you, but given the condition of the human heart and our stubbornness that refuses to see or change, I suppose I should have expected nothing less.
 
When I was a young man, "strong men" came into power.  That was their desire as well - power.  Some were driven by ideology, but underlying it all was the quest for power.  It is always so.
 
As a youth, I saw them come and take away two boys not much older than me, boys whose only crime-- in their eyes, a crime--was to love one another.  I listened to my elders say not to worry.  If we all just did as their laws ordered, we would be fine.  I am sad to say I believed them. I WANTED to believe them.  As things got worse we convinced ourselves that SURELY people would stop the madness, see the hatred for what it was and do the right thing.  It didn't happen.  It took the threat being directed at them before anyone came to help and millions died because of it.
 
I saw the pattern this time and didn't tell myself lies.  In my day, it was the homosexuals, the Slavs, the Jews and other hated people.  This time it was those they've chosen to call demon.  Always it is those who are seen as "other".
 
I needed to redeem myself for my inaction before as a young man.  I had to make this trip to aid the cause the only way I could.  My conscience would not allow for less.  The millions who died in my time screamed for action, demanded justice.
 
I have done all that an old man can do now and am ready to reunite with those I loved and lost.  My precious Chava, your grandmother, who doted on you as a baby.  How I have missed her!  My parents and siblings who didn't make it out of the camps of their time. My Tante Hadassah, who was murdered in the camps of Stalin.  So much death and misery we humans inflict!  It will be so wonderful to see them all again.  I pray that this current madness will be the last rise of such hatred in your lifetime, my precious girl.
 
Don't stop the fight until things are right again.  Maybe they weren't exactly right before, but at least there was some justice. Never settle for less than the best that you can make the world and never lose your compassionate heart.
 
Know that I have always loved you and always will,
 
Your loving Zayde 
 
Willow laid the letter next to her, seeking solace in the arms of Tara.  "I don't think I could have handled this without you here, baby."
 
"I'm here; I'll always be here." Tara held her tightly in love's embrace.
 
***
 
“Welcome, Rabbi, Jonathan, Imam and, I think, Reverend Prentiss if I haven’t mangled your name.”  Buffy motioned the four men towards the steps up to the office of the warehouse.  “Willow’s right up here.”
 
Spike moved from the shadows so silently he gave the men a start.  “Think your Boss’ll bring down a plague of frogs or some-such if I’m there?”

The Rabbi smiled gently and took the vampire’s hand, “I think you would be welcomed with the open arms of a loving father.  Let’s see, there are four of us plus Mr. Giles and Xander, so you joining us would make seven males for the prayers and, to some of us in my religion, seven is a number of completion.  I would say its fortunate you wish to join in.”
 
“You DO remember that I’m a vampire, right?”
 
Reverend Prentiss laughed, “You rarely let us forget it.  Besides, I don’t want to be the only one here that is completely lost where the ritual is concerned.”
 
“We are an odd lot, aren’t we?”  Giles nodded to them as everyone entered the space set aside for the shivah.  “We put cushions down for sitting, was that right?  Willow wasn’t too certain of her memories.”
 
“I’m not a stickler for tradition,” Rabbi Goldstein assured him.
 
Xander looked at Spike and quipped, “Evidently not.”
 
“I did ask permission, Harris,” Spike said.
 
“Zayde would want you here, Spike; you don’t need permission.  He liked you,” Willow declared.
 
Everyone greeted one another and Imam Aziz took Willow to one side to express his deep sorrow for her loss and his apologies that he and Jonathan had survived while Chaim had not.
“I know my grandfather wouldn’t want you feeling survivor’s guilt, Imam.  From the letter he left me, I think he felt he was the weak link and was accepting that he might not make it.  He would be so happy knowing you got back with everything you went for.”
 
Jonathan cleared his throat before asking, “Would you mind if I read the prayer when we get to the Kaddish?  I really loved Chaim.  I never got to know my own grandfather and he took me under his wing when all this stuff started. “
 
“That’d be nice,” Willow agreed.  “Rabbi, if you want to get started?”
 
“O God, full of compassion, who dwells on high, grant true rest upon the wings of the Shechinah, in the exalted spheres of the holy and pure, who shine as the resplendence of the firmament, to the soul of Chaim Rosenberg….”
 
Willow listened with half an ear to the ancient prayer for the soul of the departed and watched as Rabbi Goldstein lit the candle.  She leaned into Tara and gave up thanks that she was there with her again, especially now. 
 
The prayer had somehow come to an end as Willow had been lost in her memories.  “And now Jonathan will lead in the Kaddish.  It’ll be in Hebrew, but all you need to know is that in the long pauses you just reply “amen” and we’ll manage.”
 
Jonathan drew himself up to his full height and began, “Yit'gadal v'yit'kadash sh'mei raba b'al'ma di v'ra khir'utei.”  He lifted his head and indicated they should all do their replies.  Even Spike added his voice to the age-old word that offered agreement.
 
Willow thought about how senseless it seemed that her grandfather had survived so much, built such a life for himself and his family only to meet his end stealing files to free a former demon and maybe bring down the power structure that had turned their world upside down.  She really didn’t resent Jonathan or the Imam, but it just seemed that her dear grandfather should have been able to die of a great old age, comfortable in his bed and surrounded by family.  She wished that just once her father had let him know he was proud to be the son of Chaim Rosenberg.  She gently touched the pocket containing her treasured letter.  ‘It’s good to let people know they matter.’
 
“Oseh shalom bim'romav hu ya'aseh shalom aleinu v'al kol Yis'ra'eil v'im'ru,” Jonathan was concluding the prayer and nodding for the final “amen” to be said.
 
Everyone gathered around the desktop where a small meal was laid out.  Willow had made certain there was even a mug of blood available for Spike.  She hadn’t stopped thanking him for thinking of bringing Tara home for her.
 
“See,” the Rabbi teased that very vampire, “no plagues.  No lightning either.  You need to stop thinking like the people who like to make access to God and heaven like a private country club!  You’ve proven your worth more than once, Spike.”
 
Willow moved through the group in the half-aware state of one deep in mourning.  She picked up snippets of conversation along the way but snapped to full attention as she heard Jonathan speaking to Giles. 
 
“Yeah, I’m completely sure.  I didn’t know any of the others, but Riley Finn and Harvey Wicks were definitely two of them.”
 
Willow felt the electricity as it crackled and popped around her fingers.  Tara noticed at the same time Spike seemed to and they converged upon the furious witch before she could do any damage.  “Sweetie, you need to take deep breaths and calm down.  You don’t want to scare the visitors.”
 
Spike helped guide Willow to the old office chair up against the wall.  “Red, you okay in there?”
 
“Riley!  It was Riley that murdered my grandfather!”
 
Spike and Tara exchanged a look over Willow’s head.  “Can’t say I blame you for going all Voldemort. Just hearin’ the bastard’s name conjures up enough of the Old Spike to make me want to forget my promise not to tear into a human throat ever again.  Now’s not the time though.”
 
“Spike’s right,” Tara agreed.  “I know you want to avenge what was done, but we have to be careful.”
 
Willow’s voice was chilling, “I’ll be careful alright.  I’ll carefully rip the flesh off his body…slowly.”
 
Tara shivered and shot a worried look at Spike.
 
“Sounds like a right fine way to deal with him.  I’m not sayin’ you’re not right, pet, just sayin’ now’s not the time.  Got my own reason to hold a grudge there, yeah?”  He motioned for Buffy to join them.  “I promise we’ll make him pay, just not in a blind rage.  Revenge is a dish best served cold.”
 
“Star Trek[?   Really, Spike, “Buffy smiled, then noticed the mood was anything but one meant for teasing.  “What’d I miss?”
 
“Willow just overheard Jonathan tell Giles that it was Riley who killed Mr. Rosenberg.”  Tara’s eyes darted about nervously.  She really hoped they could keep Willow from lashing out.
 
Buffy’s eyes narrowed.  “Well, sounds like that’s strike three for my ex.  He’s owed for me, for Spike and now for your grandfather.”  Buffy caught the worried look on Spike’s face.  “Why don’t we plan something later, Will, once everyone leaves but us and we can figure out the best way to do this.”
 
Willow looked from face to face and saw the same resolve she was feeling and let some of her anger cool.  “I don’t want to wait too long.  He’s got a lot of enemies now and I want to be the one to administer justice.”
 
Tara was gladder now than ever that Spike had called to ask her to return.  Willow was going to need someone to make sure she didn’t fall too far into the deep dark.



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A/N: For those interested:
Jewish mourning rituals and customs http://www.aish.com/jl/l/dam/ABCs_of_Death__Mourning.html
The Kel Maleh Rachamim - Prayer for the Soul of the Departed in full: http://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/367837/jewish/Kel-Maleh-Rachamim.htm
The Kaddish (prayer for the dead) in Hebrew and English in full:  http://www.jewfaq.org/kaddishref.ht