Vanishing Point
by Fetching Mad Scientist

2029

Joni walked her usual route. The night air was getting crisp, and she'd left home without her gloves. Her fingers were turning pink from the cold. Not even blowing on them seemed to take the chill out. Even though her legs were moving at a brisk pace in a desperate effort to get her to the safety of her warm bed, the chill of the November frost had already seeped onto her bones. There was no escaping it.

It was so cold out here that even her breath was freezing into an ice cloud and shattering into a thousand fragments on the air.

Maybe what was chilling her wasn't the weather at all. Maybe she just missed her Daddy. Little girls did that sometimes, didn't they? They sometimes missed their Daddies, even when the little girls weren't so little anymore.

Joni missed her Daddy, very much. It had been two years since he'd gone away, and it still hurt her heart like it had happened yesterday. For some reason she couldn't say the word, "death" when it came to describing what happened to him. She could think it just fine. She just couldn't say it. So, for her, he had just, "gone away." He wasn't dead. Death just seemed so, permanent. That just couldn't happen to her Daddy. Not again.

Joni missed her Daddy so much. But the thing she missed most about him was the first thing that she knew was his. As a baby, she had been soothed to sleep by the gentle rolling thunder that his voice had been for her. And now that it was silent again, like it had been after her Mom died, isn't it funny how a word she couldn't even utter in relation to her Daddy just seemed to roll off like water when it came to her Mom, she really did miss it.

The first thing Joni ever had a conscious memory of was her Daddy's voice. He would sing her to sleep at night. Usually with old songs no one heard anymore. Not even on the classics band on the radio. She loved his voice. It was made up of rumble and softness and purring, like a big cat. But, it could be loud as a thunderclap when her Daddy needed to protect her or her Mom.

Her Mom, she was small and delicate, like her Daddy was. But she was strong too. She was what they used to call a Slayer; at least that's what her Daddy said she was.

But that was before the sickness came and took her. It took all the Slayers. One by one, until none were left but her. One Slayer. Just like in the beginning.

When Mom left, Daddy's rumble got quiet, too quiet. And he didn't sing anymore. Not even for her. Joni wondered if her Daddy blamed her for her Mom's death. After all, Mom got sick and she hadn't. The sickness hadn't even touched her. Somewhere deep down, Joni blamed herself for her Mom's death, so why shouldn't her Daddy do the same?

Joni remembered one conversation very well. Brian McCoy had called her a stupid name, because of her birthmark. She'd come home crying to her Daddy. She was twelve at the time, and her Daddy did what all good Daddies do when their daughters cry. He threatened to beat him up. Then, they sat down, he dried her tears, and they started talking about things that really mattered:

"So," he grinned, "how bloody do you want him? Schoolhouse tussle, or British football enthusiast?"

Joni stared at him, wide eyed, "But Daddy you can't!"

"Oh, but I can, Dove," he assured her, "Brian McCoy hurts my little girl, you bet I'm going to set him to rights about it! Especially when he hurts my girl over something that's none of her doing," he smiled, seeing that the threats of violence, even ones he had no intention of carrying out, had had their desired effect. She'd stopped crying, "And it's fun too."

"No!"

"All right," he relented, "For you, I'll let him go. But, just this once, if there's a next time, all bets are off. What was it he said to you that upset you like this?"

"He made fun of my freckles," she pouted.

He'd tilted his head the way he always did when he knew she wasn't telling him everything, "Not just your freckles. Am I right, Dove?" he indicated his cheek, mirroring where her birthmark was, "This was about your mark, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

His voice took on a stern tone. A tone he rarely used with her, "Jonina Dustin," he said, taking her by the hand out to the hall mirror, "I want to show you something."

"No Daddy. I don't want to look." She hated mirrors, and he knew this. It wasn't because she thought herself homely. She thought she was rather pretty, even if she didn't look like the ones she called her Mom and Daddy. They were the ones who'd raised her, ever since her parents had been killed by a vampire when she was three months old; they were her Mom and Dad, in every way that really mattered. No, there was another reason she hated mirrors. She hated them because she couldn't see her Daddy when she looked into one. She could see herself, but not him. And, that made her sad.

"I know you don't want to look," Spike said as he turned her to face the mirror, "but humor your old Dad, all right? Now, what do you see?"

She stomped her foot, "Me, with a big purple splotch on my face," she said petulantly.

Spike shook his head, a bit amused at how much like her she really was, "So much like your Mother. What else do you see?"

Her eyes welled up with tears, "I know what I don't see," she choked, "You. I don't see Mom, either, and I think that's so unfair!" she turned to face him, "Do you hate me, Daddy?"

Spike was shocked, "Hate you? Why would I do that, Dove?"

"For taking Mom away."

"That wasn't your fault! Never even think that." His brows furrowed and he held her tightly, "Do you understand me? I could never hate you," he shook his head again and whispered, "I could never hate you. Not you."

"But he hates me."

He could tell by the look in her eyes that they weren't talking about a schoolyard infatuation. Somehow her little girl logic had brought up something that was hurtful to her, and distasteful to him, "Now we're talking on a subject you shouldn't be worrying your pretty ringlets over. He's not worth the breath it takes to worry over. He's not even worth mine. So no talk of that, now."
****************************

That was when she was twelve. She was seventeen now. And, she was an orphan again. She hated him for that. For two years that was all she had in her. It was all she knew.

She knelt down in front of his marker, cleared the dry leaves away from the stone, and touched the letters lovingly, "Daddy, it's me. It's your 'Little Dove.' I'm sorry I haven't been by for a visit lately. But I've been busy. I thought I'd say goodnight to you before I head home. You'd be upset with me. I went out without my gloves again." She could almost hear the wind bellowing his response, "I know, I know. I'd forget my head if it wasn't on my neck. I promise, it won't happen again. And I also promise that somehow, some way, Angelus is going to pay for what he did to you and Mom."
***********************

Willow was having some trouble tracking Joni without being seen. Joni was a creature of habit. Just like her father had been. She was out the door for her nightly patrols precisely at dusk and she was back just before the first blush of sunlight. Impeccable timing. Like a Swiss watch. It wasn't that Willow didn't know where Jonina was; she did, at all times. It was just that Willow wasn't seventeen anymore. She wasn't the one fueled by grief and anger and loss, at least not now. There had been a time in her life when that would have described her to a tee. And because Willow knew what it was like to feel that, because she knew what it was to be that destructive, she feared what Joni would do.

And before he died, Spike had that exact same fear. That was why he'd made Willow promise him that Joni would never find out. Willow promised that she would watch out for Joni and keep her safe. And that was why she was out here, a woman well passed the age where staying out all night is any kind of fun, crouching in the cold and trying not to be seen by a girl who could smell the wind change directions before it even had the chance to think about changing.

Joni had somehow doubled back and Willow was heaving breaths trying to keep her in sight. She heaved a few breaths, hissing, "Did you have to train her so well, Spike? I'm getting way too old for this," she looked up at the canopy of stars twinkling above her, "And I know what happened to both you and Buffy is kind of my fault," she winced as her lungs burned trying to supply the air that she needed to keep up with her niece, "Okay, so it is my fault. But Buffy could have let me in on the fact that you were her ace in the hole, literally. Then we might not have done that spell. But who knew you were gonna go all hero? And then a few years latter, 'Wunderkind' of yours comes down from the planet Krypton, and everything goes kerboom?" she took a moment to catch her breath and to try and sort through her latest babble. She only did this kind of thing when she was worried, "And I've been talking to Andrew way too much," she looked at the blinking starlight, "haven't I? Sorry. Back in surveillance mode now."
*************************************

This was like playing hide- and- go- seek for Joni. But, unfortunately it wasn't nearly as much fun playing cat and mouse with her aunt as it had been with her Daddy. If she didn't have an objective, she would have slowed down so that aunt Willow could catch her. But she couldn't do that tonight. This was too important. And it was her only chance. She didn't care about the consequences, she really didn't.
**********************

She had tried to tell her Daddy that she was ready. She tried to remind him that she was the same age Mom was when she became the Slayer. And that he had taught her everything he knew about fighting.

He just smiled, pleased with her confidence in both his ability to impart wisdom and appreciating her own surety, "Yes, Joni I know you're strong. But the Watcher seems to think that you are key to an as yet unknown apocalypse. And George, she's a smart one. I'm obliged to take her at her word."

"But Daddy," she begged, "You're not as strong as before. You can't do what you used to do. If you go out there a bus could hit you. I have to protect you now. That's my job now, Daddy. I'm the Slayer."

He'd just rolled his eyes at her, "Thank you for reminding me that this humanity thing doesn't come with a warranty," he sighed, looking at her with eyes that seemed to see past her, "I thought I wouldn't need one. Certainly never thought I would regret snatching the brass ring from Angelus's claws. But, you see, I've never had a daughter before, and I never thought I could love anyone more than I loved," he cleared his throat, overcome with emotion, "love your Mum. But, it seems I was wrong."

"Daddy don't..."

"You see, this prize? It comes with a catch. Limited shelf life; and there's no telling how far away the use by date is. So it seems that I've just proven the old adage. You do always want what you haven't got. I need time, but it seems that I'm running short, so I have to make you as strong as you can be so that you can fly without me, Dove. Because, some day the world's going to need you, just as much as I do, and you have to be ready to fight."

The only way Joni could express what she felt for her Daddy at that moment was to hug him. There were no words big enough to show him what he meant to her.

Joni neared the clearing in the park. There was the gazebo, just where they said it was. It looked just like her mind thought it would when it drew pictures of it from the bedtime stories they used to tell her. It was like stepping into her very, own real life, fairy tale. Only when she was a baby they didn't tell her that her own Mom and Daddy were the prince and princess.

She didn't find that out until much later, when the fairy tale took her Daddy and Mom away.

Joni approached the gazebo with all the ingredients she needed for the spell. It had been tough trying to sneak the things she needed past her aunt Willow, but she'd done it. Aunt Willow had spent months trying to talk her out of this. She tried to tell her it was wrong, that there were better ways, healthier ways to deal with the pain of losing someone you loved. But she knew her aunt was a hypocrite. Her aunt wasn't one who went through pain very well. Aunt Willow knocked pain down and stomped on its face. Then when she caught up with the person who'd caused her pain, the person who'd killed the one she had loved, she skinned him alive.

But, she didn't stop there. No, she had to kill the world.

Joni didn't want to kill the world. She just wanted to see her Daddy again. Really see him. Maybe then the pain and the hurting she'd been feeling for two years would ease some.

She sat in the small circle of candles and started to pray, "Nepthys, grant a daughter passage from the is to what has been. Grant the way that the grief will cease and loved ones passed will be present once more. I offer myself a supplicant to you. Please grant me passage."

Just as the wind started to pick up, she saw a vortex open up in front of her. It was composed of green and blue light, swirling together and meeting at a point where nothing existed. Beyond that point where the two met, there was nothing. That was the point where two times became one, where there was no past and no future, only one way. That was the vanishing point. Beyond that point, her Daddy still existed, even if she did not. But without her Mom and Daddy she felt she could not exist.

So, just as she heard her aunt's anguished pleas for her to turn around, for her to stop, she stepped forward and let the light swirl around her and pull her inward. She let it guide her to the vanishing point.

As Willow watched Joni disappear in the light, she sobbed, her voice barely distinguishable from the great, howling wind, "God, Spike, I'm sorry!" she cried, knowing that she had failed to do the one thing he had begged her to do.

As the light encompassed her, she realized too late that her aunt Willow might have been right. Maybe the reaches of space and time would punish her for stepping outside of where she belonged. Perhaps every being did have a certain time and place in which they fit in the universe. Perhaps there was only one time, one moment when the world bends to their will and becomes putty in the hand. And she realized that that time might indeed be finite and measurable.

Joni thought that maybe she'd overstepped the invisible boundary, because the instant she felt herself being pulled into the apex of her spell, her body felt like it was being ripped open at the seams. It could be that the universe was trying to tell her that this wasn't the place for her, this time. It may have been that her aunt Willow was right, just this once.

A scream tore from her throat, but it could not be heard. The vacuum of time had snuffed out the sound, and the thought that made it, before it had even had a chance to begin.
**************************

IN THE INTERREGNUM

He was up and pacing again. Buffy tried to calm him, but she knew that that was like trying to calm a whirlwind, "Spike, if you don't calm down they're not going to let you in. I couldn't bear it if I had to be without you," for the first time since her arrival here, she felt like crying, "Please don't make me do this without you. You came all this way. I'm so proud of you. Please calm down."

"So this is purgatory, being omnipresent and still not being able to help? Her blaming herself nearly broke my heart the first time around. If I have to watch this happen to her again... Love, I just can't do it."

"Spike, she doesn't understand. She didn't know. All she knew is she missed her Daddy," Buffy hugged Spike as his head pressed into her neck, "I'm sure you remember how that felt. Here, the years go by so fast, I still feel like I just left you. But, I know that you were so long without me. Five years felt like an eternity, didn't it?"

He nodded, the tears he shouldn't be shedding, not when he was finally with her again, obscuring his vision of her.

"Spike, you were over a hundred years old. Joni's just a little girl. She's seventeen, Spike. Two years without her Daddy? Trust me," she smiled, wiping his tears, "for a Slayer, that's forever. Add on the fact that she's also a little girl who had her Daddy wrapped around her little finger from the first time he laid eyes on her, and that's forever plus one."

"I know Love, it's just that I feel so helpless here. I should be doing something. I told Red to watch out for her. Turns out you can't send a witch to do a vampire's job."

"We could tell Cordy," Buffy offered, "she could get word to Angel. She's still on probation because of that whole Circle thing. But there could be an exception."

"No, absolutely not! I will not let that overzealous berk near my baby girl!"

"Then how do we help her?"

Spike shook his head in thought, "If only there were some way to..." his eyes brightened with hope and mischief, "That's it!"

"What Spike?"

"I've got an Idea, Love," he smiled, holding her tight as she looked into his face, "It won't be pretty. In fact, it's gonna hurt a lot."

Buffy smiled, "I guess this is one of those times a borrowed soul really comes in handy, huh?"

"...But, if this works, I can have you, and my baby girl. And, Red won't have to go through years of guilt over her part in teetering the balance. I need to talk to your Mum."
***********************************

MARCH 22, 2005

Spike couldn't believe he wasn't dreaming. She was here, and she was his. It was all still a blur. Had she really married him?

He let air into his lungs. The scent of her washed over him, and he could hear her steady heartbeat and the hush of her breath. But, even though his superior senses told him she was indeed there with him, he knew from experience that, when it came to something he wanted with all of his heart, sometimes his senses could lie to him. They could lie to him with surprising ease and skill, especially when it came to her. That was why he'd lain there, for what seemed like hours, awash in her warmth and her scent, and he still couldn't find the courage to open his eyes.

He didn't think his heart could take it if all of this had been a lie. He moaned a little at the thought. What was it she had said about removing a bandage? Best to do it fast, then it's over quickly with a minimum of pain. He didn't want to tear the bandage off of his heart, but he had to.

So, he opened his eyes.

In the dim light of the room, he saw the delicate outline of the wedding gown she wore. The fabric was as light as a snowflake and sparkled in the light that only he could see. He saw the bottle of champagne, still on ice, on the table inside his small flat.

The fact that the bottle was more than three quarters down, could well be the explanation for the rather pleasant buzz he had around him. He wasn't near drunk, just pleasantly numb.

He shifted slightly and rose up on his elbow so that he could look down at her sleeping face in the pre-dawn light. He knew that they would have to find somewhere new to be. This was a warrior's living space. This was no place for a husband and it was definitely no place for a wife. The bed alone was woefully inadequate. But at the time, it was enough. After all, he wasn't going to entertain any visitors, was he? But now, if his wife hasn't been so petite, there would be no room for her to sleep comfortably.

And, there it was. The word. Wife. He had a wife. He looked down at his hand, and the small silver band confirmed that this was no dream because when he saw her small hand there was the circle's twin. The band was small, delicate and perfect, just as she was, and it confirmed the miracle. She was his, and he belonged to her, now and always.

He brushed his knuckles against the skin of her cheek. The skin was soft as rose petals and glowed with an inner light. The kind of light that he'd never seen before, but he hoped would never leave. It would be his job to keep the flame inside of her alive. It was his job to keep her safe. A job he took on willingly, and one he would never quit.

He whispered softly in her ear, knowing that somewhere in the space between sleeping and wakefulness, she would hear him, "I love you Buffy. I really love you."
*****************************

IN THE INTERREGNUM

"Joyce, I need your help. There's no way I can stop Jonina from doing this thing, but I can give some warning so that it doesn't blindside them. The first time around, by the time I pinpointed the source of the illness, it was too late for Buffy, and I loved her too much to see her hurt. I tried to tell her that I loved her. That it wasn't her fault," he paused, reliving the hurt of his heart, his little girl, " But the grief, it eclipsed everything else. And by the time I worked through it, no amount of hugs and kisses. No amount of love could convince her that I did. Love her. That can't happen this time. I can't let it. I need...some kind of warning."

Joyce nodded sympathetically, "I know how you feel, Spike. I think I know how to help you."
******************************

As he slept with his wife in his arms, for some reason, Spike dreamt of flying doves.

MARCH 22, 2005

Joni's body was screaming. Every nerve was on fire. She had never felt pain like this before. Not even a jump into Hell would be close to what she was feeling now. She breathed in. The air burned her throat like acid, but at least she had a throat, and a nose. So maybe she'd gotten lucky, and the forces she'd called upon to bring her here, wherever that was, hadn't decided to boomerang her back through the rift she'd made with that spell.

Maybe. But somehow, Joni knew that the reason she wasn't a bit of smear on the cosmic windshield was because of him. He was still watching out for her, even from the nether realms. She opened her eyes to darkness, which meant either she had been blinded by the shock she had subjected her body to, or she was dead. She really hoped that wasn't the case. She tried to sit up and felt asphalt under her. That probably meant a city of some sort and judging from the lack of starlight, probably a big one. Maybe even Los Angeles.

Then again, she could be completely wrong. She could be on the other side of the planet. Or she could be on another planet, in another dimension. Somewhere she and her Mom and Daddy didn't exist at all. And that would really suck.

If she made it this far though, she knew that her Daddy was looking out for her. Knowing him, he was probably angry enough to spit nails at her. But she knew that no matter how mad he got at her, he always loved her.

He didn't think she knew that, but she did. And right now that knowledge was a comfort to her. It was the only comfort she had, because her body seemed to explode with fire when she tried to move and the fuzziness of unconsciousness was pulling at her. It demanded her obeisance. Her last thought before she succumbed to its will, was that somehow her Daddy had to find her, he had to know.
*******************************

The dreams had made him restless. He didn't know what they meant, but they filled him with a sense of foreboding. It was like seeing your own agonizing death, and that didn't make for a good night's rest, wedding notwithstanding.

But that wasn't the worst of it. No, the worst was the little girl. Oh, God, the sound she was making! He didn't think he'd ever forget it, even if he survived another millennia. And the look in those big brown, saucer eyes of hers, if his heart weren't already dead that alone would have killed it. Whoever this girl was mourning, and that's all he could describe it as, she must have thought of that person very dearly.

This wasn't the first time he'd had this dream, either. They'd started the night Drusilla was staked. And they were steadily getting worse. It was as if something was trying to warn him about another apocalypse. At first, he'd thought it was just stress manifesting itself. Imagine that, a vampire under so much stress that he's having nightmares. And the stuff of a vampire's nightmares would put any Hollywood creature feature to shame. Now he just wished they would leave him the bloody Hell alone. This was his wedding night, after all. One night wasn't too much to ask, was it? Just one night without ghouls and monsters, so he could focus on more important things, like being a husband to his wife?

But no, it seems that that was not to be. Not for them anyway, for two reasons he could think of, just off the cuff. One, being that he was a monster himself, so no help there, and two because tonight had been the worst one yet.

Most of the time he woke up to just a fogy memory. But, tonight was different. It was still so vivid in his mind that he could almost reach out and touch the little girl's hair. He could still hear her cries ringing in his ears. And he could still see her eyes. Oh God, her eyes.

He remembered those eyes as he sat down to try and sketch what he could remember. And, he remembered something else as well. A mark, almost like a port wine stain, was on her cheek. The particulars were lost in the fog of sleep, but as his pencil glided along the paper, a shape began to form.

What stared up at him from the small scrap of paper resembled a bird in flight.

There was a tiny mewling sound from the bed, "Spike, come back to bed," her voice was slurred from sleep and alcohol, "What's got you up anyway?" she asked. More alert now, she sat up and squinted at him as he was hunched over the small table, "After all that, even you should be a little sleepy," she yawned.

"Sorry Love didn't mean to wake you. I had that dream again," he shook his head trying to clear his mind of the images, "And this time, I can't seem to shake it."

Buffy put on her robe and went over to where Spike was sitting. She put her hand on his shoulder, trying to give him some comfort. She knew these dreams disturbed him because some nights she would have them too. Fortunately tonight she had been spared the imagery. But, it seems, Spike hadn't been so lucky, "That girl again?" she asked, looking at the sketches he'd made.

"Yeah," he confirmed, "Only now there's this," he said, showing her the drawing of the bird.
*********************************

IN THE INTERREGNUM

"Spike, don't be too hard on her," Buffy pleaded, "She wasn't trying to make things worse. And now, because of you and Mom, she may even be able to help."

"I know that, Love. But, he... I mean I..." Spike rolled his eyes in frustration, "Oh, I'm never going to get used to being everywhere at once!" he looked down into his wife's laughing eyes, "Go ahead and laugh now, Misses. Did you ever get used to it?"

She shook her head, "No. In fact it still makes my head spin a little."

"Well, that makes me feel ever so much better," he kissed her lightly, "The point is, I'm not ready to handle another apocalypse right now. She managed to land herself right in the middle of our wedding night, for God's sake!"

"Spike..." Buffy warned.

"Sorry Love, but the girl's got to learn that there are boundaries. She has to know that she can't just..."

"And when did you learn this lesson, oh wise one?" Buffy smiled.

"I was hoping she wouldn't use me as a template, Love. I'll do what I can. And, I'll try not to be too hard on her."

"Good."

"I won't make any promises."

"I know," Buffy smiled as she watched him walk away, "You old softy, you."
*****************

As the car drove slowly up and down the night covered streets, he grumbled, just a little, at their predicament," I can't believe we're doing this. And on our wedding night, of all the nights."

"And, 'of all the gin joints, she had to walk into yours'", Buffy teased, good-natured, "Play it again, Humphrey. But look on the bright side. Maybe we're starting a new tradition. You know, like my birthday?"

The look Spike gave Buffy was as sharp as a knife, "Love, have you forgotten how disastrous your birthdays can be? Don't even think it!"

"Oh come on," she teased, "It could be fun. And this way you'll never have an excuse for forgetting our anniversary!"

Spike knew it was hopeless to argue. And what's more, he didn't want help, not for this. This was something he hoped he'd always have. He loved her so, "All right Love. Keep an eye out for anything that looks out of place."

"You mean, other than a frantic husband and wife, who just happen to be a vampire and a vampire slayer, prowling the streets of Los Angeles looking for a teenager, they've only seen in dreams? I don't know, Spike, seems pretty normal to me."

"Yeah," he said, sardonically, "other than that."
*********************

Joni thought she saw her Daddy, but she couldn't be sure. That looked like his car that just passed by, but she didn't have the strength to call out. Then there was that fuzzy figure in the corner. It seemed to be leaning against the bricks on the other side of, what was this anyway, an alley? It was on the other side of the alley from her, and it was getting closer. Coming into focus now, she saw the familiar features she missed so much, "Daddy?"

"Yeah, Dove. It's me."

"It hurts, Daddy."

"It hurts because you don't belong here, Sweetling. I thought you knew how I felt about magic. It can be a bad thing. There are always consequences."

"I didn't mean to Daddy. I just missed you so much."

"I know," he said as he looked over his shoulder at the black car as it slowed to a stop. Two people, a man and a woman, got out and rushed to help her. They were saying something, but she couldn't understand them. Joni thought they looked a little like her Mom and Daddy. But that couldn't be because her Daddy was standing right in front of her, and he was still talking to her, "And you and I are going to have a lot of time to catch up. You and I are going to have to talk about letting Mummies and Daddies have their private time, Dove. But don't worry, you'll be back in the game again, when the time is right for you to be," his face held a whimsical expression as he watched himself, and Buffy, trying to rouse her. They were shouting but getting no response from her, because she could not hear them, "But all is not lost, Dove. I think you may have just helped...me save your Mum."

"Really, how?"

"Just by being you, Dove. Now let's be going."

"Where?"

"Home."
****************

Spike checked the girl's pulse. There were no signs of injury, yet he knew she was beyond saving the moment he saw her. He tried again to speak to her, "We'll find your Daddy, Love. Please just hold on," he looked again for injury, but found none, nothing was wrong internally, so this girl should not be dying, right before his eyes, "Don't do this, Love," he begged, "Please, not this."

He heard her soft voice behind him, "It's too late, Spike. She's dead. There's nothing we could have done."

Spike looked up at Buffy's face, "But why, Love? Why is she dead?"

As she looked into his questioning eyes, she began to wonder that herself, "I don't know why, Spike. But we're going to find out."


Buffy couldn't understand how this had happened. Just eight hours ago, she'd been dancing on a cloud of air. Doing something Angel had convinced her she couldn't do. Couldn't have, because she was the Slayer, set apart from the world. Different. Alone.

Yet she wasn't. Not anymore. He'd convinced her that the Prince of her youth, her forever love, wasn't. He'd been a magician when he'd pulled a happy ending from the tatters of what should have been a tragedy. And he'd done it all himself. While she'd been busy mending bones and muscles after Drusilla's attack, somehow he'd put together the perfect fairy tale ending for her. Completely out of thin air, suddenly there were trombones and roses, champagne and star light. And he'd done it without complaint.

The others had quietly pulled her aside, cautioning her to watch for the crash they were sure would come. It seems that this happy ending had been all that had been fueling him. Buffy knew Spike had seen some horrible things. And, once her wounds had begun to heal she wanted to be there for him, to help him sort through all the traumatic things they both knew he'd experienced in that old distillery. But, he never made any mention of them, preferring just to focus on her recovery.

And as she watched the police, and the coroner's van, drive away with another teenage, "Jane Doe" to analyze and catalog, she saw the façade he'd spent months, even years, building crumble away as if it had never been.

It was as if she were back in that little chapel in Sunnydale. He sounded broken. And, it broke her heart.

"...There's no reason for it, Buffy. None. She shouldn't be dead. Why is she dead?" his eyes were looking to her for the answer, and she had none to give. When no answer came he continued pacing as if he'd never stopped to address her at all. He was pacing and mumbling to himself, and looking at his hands as if they were some new part of his anatomy. The scene reminded Buffy of something straight out of a Shakespearian tragedy, "There should be blood," he said, looking at his hands and then down at where the dead girl had been, "There should be blood," he nodded to himself, "She's dead. But, there's no blood," his eyes never left his hands, "It's here. It should be here," he turned his palms over slowly, examining them in the light of the streetlamps, "There's so much of it."

"Miss, is he all right?" the officer asked, "Does he need an ambulance?"

"No, Officer, he just needs a minute. We're not really used to seeing young people just keel over like that. He just needs a few minutes, and then I'm sure he'll be fine."

The officer was skeptical, "Well, if you're sure he'll be all right."

"Yes, I'm sure, Officer. Thank you." She turned to Spike and tried to sound calming to his obviously frayed nerves, but she didn't know if she could accomplish such a feat of acting when seeing him like this brought her tears so close to the surface, "William, go back to the car," she pleaded with her voice, "Remember your allergy? You don't want to have another attack. I'll finish telling the policeman everything I remember," his eyes were wide and frightened as he looked at her, "Then we'll start our honeymoon. We'll be out of here before you know it," Buffy gave him a slight hug and he held her as if he was afraid she'd slip through his fingers, "Go back to the car," she hoped she wouldn't dissolve into tears and cause him more stress, "Please?"

For an instant, he seemed not to recognize her. Looking at her as if she were a curiously beautiful butterfly he'd only just discovered, he nodded, turned on his heel and walked stiffly toward the sanctuary the big, classic car offered him.

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief as she watched the door close, encasing Spike in the darkness that was his safety. Turning to the officer, she asked, "What do you want to know?"
*********************

In the cool darkness of the car the nightmares came flooding back. The images came too fast for him to process them. Each one pummeled him until he couldn't defend himself anymore. He was just too tired. Six months of this. He thought immersing himself in the fairy tale would help him to beat it. But, he was wrong, he realized that, now.

There were things that went through his head when he went to sleep, and sometimes when he was awake, that he could never tell Buffy about. Buffy. Perhaps he'd been wrong about who Drusilla's last victim had been. Maybe it wasn't Buffy at all. Maybe, it was he.

He pulled his knees up against his chest, suddenly not caring what a sad picture he must have seemed, a full-grown man cowering in the corner, and tried to make himself as small as he possibly could. If he made himself small enough then maybe the nightmares wouldn't know he was there. If he were small enough, maybe he could escape them. He'd tried it once before, in another time and place. But, that time and place was closed off now, and he couldn't go back, no matter how much he might want to.

It hadn't worked anyway. The nightmares still found you, no matter how hard you tried to outrun them they still found you. He understood that. And so did Angelus.
************************

He'd been patrolling when he noticed their car. Theirs. Yes, they were together now, he knew that. Who didn't? It was all over the West Coast inside a week. It was unheard of. It was an, ironically, unholy alliance. A Slayer and a vampire were to marry? Impossible. It was against every rule, written or not, that there was. It just was not done. He'd tried to spare Buffy from that. He'd tried to give her a normal life. And he'd tried to make Spike see reason and let her go so that she could have the normal life he knew neither of them could give her.

But Spike was never one to be reasonable.

As Angel watched the coroner's van pull silently away, he decided to follow. Spike had been right for once. There was no physical reason, that he could detect, for that girl to be dead. From his rooftop vantage point, Angel could see that this runaway's death had Spike quite visibly undone. Even Buffy was having a difficult time settling him. He had a bad feeling about this. Spike had done many things, but he didn't spook easily. For that reason alone, Angel was going to find out what had caused her death.
*****************************

Buffy ducked into the car. She found Spike curled up in the corner of the back seat. His back was pressed against the doorframe and his head was resting on his knees. The posture reminded her so much of his time in the Sunnydale High School basement that it sent quivers down her spine, "Spike, are you all right?"

He looked at her as if he were seeing her for the first time in years, instead of mere moments ago, "Buffy?"

"Yeah," she smiled, "Buffy Anne Summers at your...I mean," her eyes twinkled at him as she tried on her new moniker, "Mrs. William Alistair Dustin, at your service, sir," she giggled, "You never told me you had a goofy name like Alistair."

The look on his face had proven her right. When in doubt, distract.

"Goofy? My name's goofy?" he huffed, "Where as, 'Buffy' is a classic that's been around for generations! Queens and noblewomen the world over have been called Buffy!" he shook his head a little, giving her a smile, "Love, that's not your actual name," he winced, "is it?"

She pouted, "What, you don't like my name?"

"I love your name, Pet," he assured, "It's just that 'Buffy' used to be a nickname, of sorts, for Elisabeth. Is your Christian name, Elisabeth?"

"Yeah, but I like Buffy better."

"So do I, Love," he grinned, some of his pains forgotten when he looked into her face, "I'm really sorry about losing myself back there."

She waved him off, "No problem! If you can't wig out a little in front of your wife... Besides, if you got out of control, I'd just kick your ass."

He nodded and smiled at her, grateful for the bit of normalcy she offered him, "You would at that, Pet."

"Damn right I would," she touched the hand that bore the ring that matched hers, "Now, what do you say we start our honeymoon?"
*********************

Angel walked into the police station, appearing frantic, "I need to report a missing person."

The officer at the desk didn't even bother to glance up, "Name, age and physical description?"

"Lorraine Angelus. She's seventeen," he said, wringing his hands, "She ran away a week ago. Her mother and I have been so worried about her. I wonder officer, have you seen her?"

"I won't know that until you tell me what she looks like."

"She's just a little over five feet tall and has maple colored hair and brown eyes. Oh, and she has a very distinctive birthmark on her left cheek. It's a kind of purplish color. It looks like a bird."

That description caused Officer Theodore Brown to look up at the frantic man giving the report. Just as he came on shift this evening there was a coroner's report that crossed his desk about a "Jane Doe" matching this exact description, "Are you this person's father?" he asked.

"Yes," Angel lied.

Theo's heart sank. He hated this part of the job, "I see. Sir, come with me, please."
******************************************

Buffy's mind suddenly went blank. There was no room in her head for rational thought. Not when he was touching her like that.

His hands. His hands were doing things, and touching her in places she'd never been touched before, by anyone. Not even him. Somehow, he'd managed to find places she didn't know existed. And it wasn't just his hands that were taking her to new heights. He was doing things to her that she didn't even think were possible for the average human to endure. It was a good thing for the both of them that she wasn't the average human.

"Oh, God, Spike," she moaned, thrilling at how her body felt.

"Like that, Pet?" he purred against her skin, "You taste so good. You're ambrosia."

"Where did you learn to do that?" she asked, when she had regained the rational thought needed to construct a simple thought.

His eyes were dark and shining with lust, and love for her, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Yes, I would," she said, lazily, "So we can go there. And, do that again."

Spike smirked at her, "Why travel so far, when you have everything you need close at hand?"

"I do, you know," she paused at his quizzical look, "Have everything I need," she coaxed him up for a kiss, "Right here."

Spike nuzzled into the crook of her neck, clearly overcome with emotion, " I love you, Buffy. I just... love you. You know I would never hurt you, don't you?"

"Not unless I asked you to," she said, slyly.

She could see from the look on his face that he wasn't in a teasing mood, and she sobered quickly, "I know," when he tried to avoid her eyes, she asked, "Where did that come from?"

He was suddenly stuttering and unsure. He sat up in the bed, his back to her, "I don't know, exactly," his eyes were bright, "It's just that..." he looked at his hands again, touching the ring he wore, a bit timidly, "these hands have done so much. Too much, you don't even know..."

Buffy sat up and held his hands in hers, looking down at the place where they were joined now, "I know what it is you've done. But, we're together now. From here on out, we go through things like a team. Together," she pushed his face toward her so that she could see his eyes; "You're my partner now. You're more than that now," she said, remembering the words etched into both of their wedding bands, "You're me."
*****************

As Angel searched through the girl's personal effects, he discovered a small silver band, tarnished with age. He could tell that this piece of jewelry was a prized possession, the metal made soft from constantly being near the skin. On the inside of the band, Angel could just make out an inscription, "W.E. are one."

IN THE INTERREGNUM

"Spike, give him a chance," Buffy cajoled, "He could surprise you. Maybe he's changed."

Spike was incredulous, "Changed? Love, he hasn't changed his hairstyle in a hundred years! What makes you think things will go differently this time?"

"As I recall, he used to say the same things about you. I can still hear him now, 'Spike will never change. He only thinks about himself. He's not as special as I am.'"

"The ponce said that? To you?"

She nodded, "He did," she kissed away the grimace that was starting to form on his face, "But that's not important now. The point is, you proved him wrong. You nursed Joni through skinned knees, bumped elbows and broken hearts. Not to mention the illness and death of a parent. It was very important that she learn that she can move through the hurt, and still be herself. That's something you taught Joni, and her Mommy, very well. I'm very proud of you. And, so is Joni."

"Love, I had hoped to find the answer in time," he cast his eyes downward, "to save you. Maybe then, Joni would have known I loved her," he sighed, "Buffy, how can you say I taught her anything? I was shut down for an entire year. She needed her Daddy and I wasn't there. I didn't teach her anything."

"Hey," she tilted her head so that she could see his eyes, " She grew up, didn't she? She was the best Slayer, even better than me. I'd say you taught her enough," she smiled at him, tilting his eyes up to her, "And, don't be so gloomy faced. Not here. I had a good life. Joni's was just starting. And maybe now, we won't have to go through that."

"Yeah. Somehow I doubt it. I don't like the idea of Peaches having that much power. It tends to corrupt. And, he's very suggestible. The first time around we had seven years together, fighting your average everyday vampires and demons, before 'Lace' came along, and my whole world imploded. Now, Angelus has his finger on the button, and he doesn't even know it. And me?" Spike shook his head, "Love, he's still reeling. He's not near ready enough."

"Well," Buffy said, "it looks like he's going to have to get ready."
*********************

Holding her hand as they walked along the beach, Spike watched the way the moonlight reflected off the water and set her aglow in silver. The light from the stars bounced in her hair, setting it on fire and giving her face an appearance he dimly remembered. He saw her face like this once that he could recall, and that was when he'd had the gem and ambushed her in the quadrangle. He'd toyed with her and delayed what he thought would be his gratification, because he had needed those precious few seconds to memorize how she had looked with the sun radiating out of her skin and hair. He needed to freeze those few moments and file them away so that, when his own world got too lonely and cold, he would have her image to keep him company.

That was just one of the things he never told her about.

And now here she was. But this was not a memory, at least not yet. This was real. And she looked so much softer than he remembered. She seemed lighter somehow. She was more full of life now than she seemed then, and he couldn't believe it was all due to him. He knew he didn't have that kind of power. No, this was all her.

"Hey, you're a million miles away, mister. You'll start to give a girl a complex," she squeezed his hand, bringing him back to the present, "What were you thinking about?"

He laced his fingers through her hair and watched as the moonlight danced between his fingers as he slowly let the strands fall. As they moved through her hair, his fingers seemed to ignite fragrances he'd never known before. She was new to him, just waiting to be discovered. She was amazing.

He was so dazzled by her that he was nearly mute, "You. Do you know how amazing you are?"

As Buffy looked at him, he seemed to transform right before her very eyes. In an instant he went from a man to a vulnerable and awe struck boy. A boy she wanted to protect, with all her heart. "You're pretty amazing yourself," she said as she kissed him.
*************************

The coroner's report took a week to compile, mostly due to the fact that Lorraine Angelus's hematology was anomalous. The blood seemed to contain antibodies that had never been seen before.

The usual protocol in matters like this would be to call in the proper authorities. With the atmosphere so twitchy about anything unexplained these days, notifying the local hazardous materials squad as well as the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta had become almost second nature.

So, imagine Doctor Samuel Hill's surprise when word came down from his superiors telling him that there would be no need to notify those agencies of his findings. Any statement of his findings, as well as the body the statements referred to, was to be released to her father immediately for cremation.

As he prepared the medical waste for proper disposal, he grumbled a little, "Just when did this new policy go into effect, anyway? I don't remember seeing a memo about it. But then again, they don't tell me everything," he put his head down, trying to dot every " I" and cross every "T", in triplicate. It had to be perfect, or he would be sure to hear about it, "This just creates more work for me. I hate paperwork."
**********************************************

IN THE INTERREGNUM

"You sure you want to do this, Dove? I don't want to make you do something you don't want to. You won't be able to protect yourself. And if he finds you first," his grip tightened on her arms, "I swear, I'll make him pay. If he thinks he's cursed now... He may just have to redefine the word."

"Daddy, you wouldn't be here now if it wasn't for me. You deserve everything Daddy. I can't let him have it when it doesn't belong to him. If coming on stage a little early means that I can have both you and Mom," she nodded, " then I'm doing it!"

"But Dove, he killed your parents and he nearly killed you! A little baby! He found out what you could do, and all his morality flew out the window while he was throwing the baby out with the bathwater. I don't trust him. Not one wit."

"Well Daddy," Jonina leaned up on her toes to kiss him, "You'll just have to stop him."
**************************************

"Oi, sleepyhead, wake up."

Spike tried to ignore it maybe it would go away.

"Ignoring me is not going to make me go away. You know Peaches tried that. It only made me more annoying. And you know how annoying I can be when I put my mind to it."

"I'm on my honeymoon," he told the darkness, because he refused to open his eyes and acknowledge the presence in his head. And that's exactly where it was, and where it was going to stay, "Go away!"

"You're right, I am in your head. But I'm other places too. I know where you are because I've been there too. Believe me, I don't want you to miss this, not for the world. It'll be all you have, later," the voice that sounded like him, the one Spike had started referring to as, "Jiminy," sounded almost nostalgic, "I don't want to ruin this for you."

"Then don't!" Spike hissed.

"I don't want to. But this is so important that I'm about to do something I already hate myself for. Hang on. I'd say take a deep breath but, right now, you don't need it. This is going to hurt."

Spike's brain was flooded with pictures he didn't want. But he couldn't stop them:

Buffy's death from a lingering illness he's powerless to stop. Seeing the little girl that haunted him crying her little heart out. Angelus, killing a mother while she held her infant close to her and snapping the father's neck when he tried to protect the infant that was falling from her mother's grasp. And that dove. The child. Oh, God!

He woke up, screaming and shaken, "Buffy, we have to go back," he gasped.



April 8, 2005-LOS ANGELES

"Where do you suppose they went on their honeymoon?"

Xander smiled at Dawn, "Like I've said already a thousand times, 'I don't know.' He wouldn't tell anyone where he was planning on taking her. It was kind of an obsession with him, which doesn't really surprise me all that much. Giving her a happy ending after what happened, we all wanted that. So, he didn't tell. And, I didn't ask."

Dawn's face glazed over as her mind sifted through all the romantic places Spike could have taken her, "Do you think it was the beach? Buffy loves the beach. Or, maybe he took her to England? You know, take her to visit his old stomping grounds?"

Xander sighed. He was no match for a girl who'd been raised on fairy tales, "I don't know Dawn. And personally, I'd rather not have a play-by-play running through my head, if you don't mind."

Dawn smirked, "Jealous?"

"Yes. Now, let's get back to research mode."

"I don't understand why we don't just call them. I'm sure they'd come back."

Xander leaned in close over the table, "Maybe we're not calling them, Dawn, because they're on their honeymoon?"

Dawn reached into her purse, which she had tossed on the table after Giles summoned the gang to George's old garage for a powwow, and took out her cellular phone, "If Buffy didn't want to be interrupted, then why did she leave her cell phone number?"

He shrugged, "Habit? She's not the only Slayer, now. I'm sure we can handle this on our own, Dawn. I'm still not sure why Giles even called us here. This is L.A. after all, it's not like a mysterious death is all that mysterious."
**************************

It seemed to Buffy that long moonlit walks and lovemaking in the sand just weren't in the cards for them. Not that he hadn't tried to give her those things, he had. And the nights were wonderful. Having him there, she felt like she was the only person in the world. He looked at her as if he could see the moonrise in her eyes, and she kind of liked being that important to someone again. After Willow's spell that awakened all the potential Slayers, she kind of missed being the only one. She didn't think she would, but she did.

No, the nights were fine. Cataclysmic in fact, in a very good way. It was just the days that bothered her. She wasn't worried about herself. It was Spike she was concerned about.

His days were filled with fitful sleep. Drusilla's attack seemed to hit him much harder than he had ever let on. Though there was a permanent scar that Drusilla left them both with.

The viciousness of her attack had affected their future in a way neither of them had foreseen. Drusilla had hurt them in a way, and in a place that couldn't be spoken of. A place that Spike wouldn't share with her. She tried to assure Spike that it wasn't important to her. That he was all that mattered to her because he was, all that mattered to her. He was the past and the future to her. Nothing else mattered. Spike did not see things the way she did. He became fixated on the idea that he was somehow responsible for her condition. She tried to tell him that, even if she didn't have children of her own, they could always adopt. Once she felt it was safe to take responsibility for something bigger than a goldfish, they could always adopt. But that day was perhaps years away.

At least it sounded more sincere than the "cookie dough" speech. Maybe it sounded more sincere because it was.

Her assurances did not assuage the guilt he felt at being, at least in part, responsible for her ordeal. She knew that, and she wished that there were something she could do for him, to help him through this.

He said that he knew that there would be sacrifices that had to be made for him to be with the one person he knew was right for him. If that meant becoming a vampire so that he could be around when that one girl came into being, so be it. And, if being around when she came into the world meant that having Nibblets of his own was out of the question that was just how it had to be. But, when it came to her? That was another story altogether.

He'd said it. But, when he did, she noticed a light went out of his face. It was almost as if he'd finally given up on a dream. Let go of something he'd just realized that he grew out of. Something he didn't even know he wanted until the possibility of having it had been snatched away from him.

After that, the dreams about the little girl started. It was then that Buffy knew just how much Spike had wanted it, the whole dog and white picket fence and two kids, one boy, one girl, just to give things a kind of equilibrium thing. And it broke her heart because she knew that, somewhere in Spike's subconscious mind, he'd constructed this child that haunted him as a means of dealing with a loss he didn't even know he was feeling. A teenager could be explained. Maybe it was a Slayer dream, something he shared with her as a result of what happened on the Hellmouth. The loss of hope was a horrible thing. And Buffy knew that the sudden appearance of a baby was just a manifestation of the loss he was feeling.

She knew how he felt, because she was feeling it, too. She wanted to help him through it, if he would only let her help.

"Spike, could the things that happened in your dream, could they be memories of things that have already happened?" Buffy tried to reason with him, "I mean, Angel and Drusilla did have a thing for children, you know, when they were evil."

Spike paced in front of the curtained hotel room window, "Love, I only hope this is just stress. Do you really think I wanted to interrupt our honeymoon with tales of the boogieman?" he sat back down on the bed, visibly shaken, "I'm half taken to believe that I've gone round the bend again, like before. That would be preferable to this," Spike ran his fingers through his hair in distress, "What's in my head now, Angelus couldn't even fathom. Not even he's that twisted," he shook his head, trying to summon the words that would let her understand, "No, Love, this was cold. So cold that..." he lost the words and looked at her. He looked so lost that her heart tore in two for him. He was near sobbing when he next spoke, his words muffled by the comfort she was trying to give him, "I've done some things that would make your blood run cold, Buffy. But this? It was like I'd seen it all before. It was like I knew what was going to happen. Like I was seeing it all in slow motion, only I couldn't stop it. It was all happening again and I couldn't stop it," he looked at her, his face bewildered and his eyes searching as he held her tightly, "But how can that be when you're still here?" he paused and studied her closely, "You are still here, aren't you?" Spike's eyes looked as if they were balancing on the precipice of insanity. He looked at her as if something had broken inside of him, "It hasn't touched you? Please, say it hasn't."

She was resolute, "No. It hasn't touched me. I'm still here," Buffy's voice was strong even though the sight of Spike this vulnerable was, to be honest, more than a little frightening, "And, it won't touch me, because we wont let it. If you think the best place for us right now is back in Los Angeles, then we go back."

"I'm sorry, Love. This is probably nothing but newlywed jitters," he said sheepishly.

She tried to comfort him, "Vampires get those too, huh?"
*************************************

Rupert Giles had never seen anything like this. Not in all his days on the Council of Watchers, before the change or after. Not even his foray into the world of dark magic prepared him for what he was reading.

"What caused this?" he asked, hoping that he was somehow missing some important factor, "Have you contacted the authorities about this?"

"No," Angel said, "That would only cause a panic. This is why I came to you first. If anyone would know if the girl's condition was just an aberration, or something more ominous, it would be you."

"But why would you come to me with this? You know I don't trust you."

Angel nodded, "That's exactly why I came to you," he put his head down, in deference to the enormity of the information he'd just laid on the Watcher's shoulders, "I know that the Council has the blood profiles of all the active Slayers. And none of them have ever had numbers like that, am I right?"

"Yes."

"If this were to be released on the general population," Angel shook his head, "It would make the Ebola virus look like the common cold. It needs to be contained."

"I agree. But how?"

"If there were some way to limit it. Target it to one, specific population, maybe then, it could be controlled."

Rupert felt his jaw twitch and his voice harden as he looked at a creature that had tortured him just for the pleasure of hearing him scream, "Which population do you suggest?"

Angel sighed, "One that's strong. One that may be able to adapt quickly enough to survive," his voice became hard as stone, "One that has been thrown out of equilibrium of late, due to certain actions."

"The Slayers. Willow's spell. You'd endanger Buffy?"

"To save the world from extinction?" Angel nodded, grimly, "Yes, I would."

"What have you done with the body?"

"It's been cremated. And, the medical waste incinerated," he nodded toward the papers in Giles's grasp, "Once you burn those, no one will know that Lorraine Angelus even existed."
*****************

APRIL 8, 2005

"Are you completely out of your mind! I am not putting the Slayers' lives in danger, not to mention Buffy's when there is no proof whatsoever that this is anything but some sick concoction of yours," Giles paused, taking the time he needed to gather his breath, as well as the venom needed to finish his address of this creature, "Angelus."

Angel winced at the contempt that the old Watcher had for him, "I don't care what you think of me," he said softly, "And I know you don't trust me, and you shouldn't. But numbers don't lie. Those numbers," he said, pointing to the papers in Giles's hand, "Are totally skewed. If this is more than just an accident, some freak of nature, a one in a million thing? Then, we need to be prepared," he shook his head, "because this even has me scared. And I used to be good at the apocalypse thing. Both stopping them," he put his head down, overcome with the stress of the things that had happened over the last few months, "And causing them."

Giles looked at Angel's demeanor. Instead of being open, with a wide stance that would convey confidence, he was closed in tightly, trying to look small. Seeing that caused a chill to spread out over his limbs, "You're not lying to me, are you?" he asked.

"No," Angel said as he took a small plastic bag from his pocket, and threw it on the coffee table in front of Giles. The bag was clearly marked with the label, "Police Evidence," "But, if you don't believe me, there are some things in there," he gestured toward the bag on the table between them, "that might change your mind. Those are some of 'Lorraine Angelus's' personal effects. They were found on her the night she died. They were released to her 'father' before she was cremated," Angel turned to leave, "You may be shocked at what you find in there," he squared his shoulders, "I know I was," he said as he closed the door.

Giles looked over the contents of the bag. There was a small journal, apparently belonging to someone named Jonina Irene Dustin. It looked well worn. So that was her name. Giles had a penchant for being able to call up the most obscure meaning of a word. It helped him to understand Latin more easily.

Her name denoted strength. Without knowing it, her parents had befitted this anonymous girl with a name that any Slayer would be proud to have. Dustin, Jonina Irene was a "Valiant Dove of Peace."

The wheels began to turn in his head as Rupert began to sift through the meager belongings of this unfortunate young lady. Dustin. He was sure he'd heard that name somewhere before. Yes. That was the name William used. It was the name Buffy had taken when she'd wed him.

Oh, God.

He began to search franticly over the scraps of a life he didn't know, but now through tragic events, must begin to know intimately.

To his horror, he found something he recognized. A tiny silver wedding band with an inscription he knew well, "W.E. are one."

With trembling hands, he opened the small, worn leather bound notebook to a random date. The detail with which the scene was described transported Rupert Giles through time and space, to a world he did not want to know.
*******************

DECEMBER 2, 2027

Willow knew that the end was coming soon. She'd seen this happen with all the Slayers, eventually. It just never happened this fast. Maybe he just missed her too much to put up a fight anymore.

She only hoped that she would be able to take care of Jonina the way he wanted her to when the time finally came.

Willow slipped quietly into the sickroom, trying to tune out the sobbing that was filling the room. Georgina saw her and left Joni to her grief. The two of them went out into the hall, both out of respect and to escape the sorrow that was taking the air out of the room, "It's happening fast," George said, "I don't know what Joni's gonna do," she sounded tired and on the verge of sobbing herself, "He's her world. Once he's gone..."

"I know. He tried to prepare her. But there's just no preparing for something like this. And, if Joni ever found out...Well Spike has been spending what little strength he has making me swear to him that she won't. He's afraid of what she'll do, when the reality finally hits her."

"Has she had any rest?" George asked, peeking in the room and noticing how frail she looked. Even more frail than he did, and he was, sadly, on his deathbed.

Willow shook her head, "No. I've tried to make her come away. I even tried telling her that having her sick too is not what her Daddy would want, but nothing's worked. She won't budge an inch. She says she doesn't want to miss anything," she nodded to herself, the tears started to flow down her cheeks, "But he can't even see her anymore," she sniffed, "I doubt he even knows she's in the room."

George fought to maintain a quiet respectful tone, when all she really wanted to do was go into that room and hold Joni, and cry like a baby because she was losing a friend, just as Joni was losing a father, "But she will know, Willow. And, that's all she has right now."
*******************

Joni tried to be strong. She tried to be brave. But how could she when her Daddy was dying, and of the same thing that killed her Mom? "Lace." What a pretty name for such an ugly, disgusting and vile thing. There was nothing pretty about what, "Cassandra's Lace" did, to anyone.

If it were anyone but her Daddy lying there, she could have been more clinical about the whole thing. She could appreciate the beautiful brutality of the thing. She couldn't the first time, she'd been only ten. All she'd understood then was that her Mom had been taken away from her. She was older now. Her Daddy, and the Slayers had been fighting this thing almost from the time she was born. She should have been used to it. But she wasn't. She hated it.

And she hated her Daddy even more because, when he'd been different, he hadn't thought of her, or the future. He only saw Mom. But he couldn't save her.

And then the change happened. Something he'd forgotten about happened. And, now she was losing her Daddy because he forgot about everything. He forgot about her. Forgot about how she would feel.

She hated him for that.

Joni tried to be brave as she surveyed the damage the virus had done to him. She tried to see him through the shimmering mist that was over her eyes. She wasn't crying. Her Daddy wouldn't want that.

The broken capillaries under his skin gave it the appearance of red lace. It was this that gave the virus its deceptively benign name. The buildup of pressure in his brain had destroyed his optic nerve, rendering him blind. The pressure, coupled with the virus's insatiable need for nerve tissue, had slowly eaten away his voluntary muscle control. If it hadn't been for his strong physical condition when he'd first been infected, as well as his, "special" circumstances before, he would have been dead weeks ago. Instead, he lingered for months.

He had known the horror of his death from the moment the change occurred. He had given up on the idea that things would change, so when they did, it was a shock.

He began to mourn Joni's loss with her, almost from the start. Because of that, because he didn't want to leave her, he held on long after he should have let go.

"Daddy, can you hear me?" she asked as she held his hand, "I'm here, Daddy. It's 'Dove.' I'm here," she murmured.

He may not have been able to see or speak, but he could still hear her. She didn't know if that was a blessing or a curse. He still had some muscle control, probably due to his indomitable will, and he turned his head, slowly and painfully toward the sound of her voice.

Sightless eyes blinked in acknowledgement of her, and tears glossed over them as his jaw worked to clench muscles that had long since been deaf to his commands.

"It's all right Daddy," she said, as her own tears mixed with his, "You don't have to talk. You've said it all before. I know. I know. I'm a big girl now Daddy," she said as she smoothed his brown curls from his forehead, "And, I can fly on my own, just like you taught me," her voice seemed too small for her throat, "It really is okay, Daddy," she nodded, "I know you're tired of fighting. Even you have to stop sometime. You've been doing it for so long now. I know you're very tired, and I know you miss her so much," Jonina watched as the tears came faster, somehow, as if he were begging her to forgive him and let him stay, "I miss her too," she sobbed, "Daddy, tell Mommy I love her. It's all right, Daddy."

With one last, chaste kiss, a daughter said goodbye to her father for the final time. There would be no coming back from this journey. As she watched his eyes drift shut, she moved stiffly to inform her family that her Daddy was gone.
**********

Giles's hands trembled as he read the words. If this girl was who she seemed, then she held inside her a warning that they must heed. Or they would all die.


APRIL 9, 2005

After reading the entirety of Jonina's journal, Giles felt conflicted. The world she described was indeed a world that needed preparing for, but he knew from experience that time and space could be a fickle thing. Often if one thing were thrown out of balance, nature compensated, and very quickly, too.

Angel was correct in one respect. Willow's spell was ingenious. It helped them to defeat an obvious enemy. But, much like the animal kingdom, there is a delicate relationship to predator and prey. If one is overpopulated, often the other becomes weak and dies off. In the case of the vampire and the Slayer, on its face, this may seem to be a good thing, but with no prey, the predator often becomes extinct.

There was a reason there was only one Slayer the whole world over. And, Willow's magic, although an ingenious stratagem may have been shortsighted. The illness described in this young lady's journal, may have been nature's way of restoring the balance.

If that were to be tampered with things could be made worse.
*******************************
IN THE INTERREGNUM

"Dove, I know you're anxious to fix what you did," he smiled a little at the way she'd taken after him, "You're a bit like your Da that way. But, you need to give the old Watcher time to figure it out. And you need to give him," he shook his head. Spike still couldn't get used to referring to himself in the third person, "a chance to get to know his daughter. Angel has taken you away from him for the time being."

Joni tried not to cry. She hadn't seen her Daddy in so long that it was hard to keep the tears away, "Angelus didn't take anything from him Daddy. I did."

"Sweetling," he cooed, "we are not going through this again. This is not your fault. If anything, this is Angelus's fault, for jumping the gun."

Jonina was inconsolable, "Then it is my fault, Daddy," she resisted his embrace, but Spike didn't loosen his gentle hold on her, "If I'd only listened to Aunt Willow! Then it would have stopped," her voice quivered, "with you. And your death wouldn't have been for nothing. I'm so sorry, Daddy."

He shook his head, "Hush, none of that now," he smiled, gently lifting her chin to meet his eyes, "Or, do I have to bring your Mum in here?"

"Daddy, this is so hard. All I wanted was you, and now all I want to do is help. Now, I can't do that!"

Looking into her sienna eyes, Spike realized how much he did love her and how much he would love her, if he were given the chance, "Can't help? Now, come on, you know how smart your Mum and Dad are. I'm sure you can. You just have to wait a few more months so that your Da can get his footing again. And when he knows what you can do, when he puts the cure with the disease, when he sees what you can do?" he hugged her tightly, "Sweetling, when it all falls into place, your Da will move Heaven and earth to protect you. Even from Angelus. You are the key to stopping this. Angelus didn't see that. But your Da, he will. I'll make sure of it."

"I know you will, Daddy. I just don't want to see you hurt again. I hate it."

"I know, Dove," he said as he kissed her hair, "I know."
*************************

Giles knew that nature sometimes encapsulated the cure within the disease somewhere. Darwinian Theory even had a term for it. It was called a, "spontaneous genetic mutation."

The fittest among a population do survive. And, Jonina Dustin, bless the young lady's heart, had somehow defied time and space to place the answer to an upcoming apocalypse in their hands, months, perhaps years before it was needed. And now, all that was left of Jonina Irene Dustin was a page of numbers and ratios he did not understand.

There were a few trinkets, some of which confirmed who she seemed to be. There was that small journal which, along with telling of a horrible disease, also told of a daughter's love for her mother and her father. But, from what Giles could glean from her words, Jonina had an incredibly loving relationship with her father, one that, at times, as he read the words from a phantom life, would bring a tear to his eye.

It was the kind of relationship that Buffy had said, over and over again, ad infinitum, that Spike was capable of. A relationship that, until reading the words in this journal, Rupert Giles had thought was impossible for a creature such as he.

And now, because of the impulsive actions of Angelus, the cure to an absolutely horrid plague may have turned to a handful of white ash.

Giles gathered up the leather-bound volume that delineated a small but incredibly enormous life and swept it into his palm, where it rested with the weathered and aged wedding band, the same one that he had last seen glistening happily on a young bride's finger as she held her husband's hand. A hand with a band of silver that glowed in answer to its mate, along with that rested the treasured chrome-plated lighter. These were small treasures of a life that, through another's actions, would not, at least through any avenue he could foresee, be able to preserve the lives she loved so well.
********************

Buffy winced as Spike ran his fingers lightly over her swollen ankle, "That hurt, Love?"

She bit her lip, trying not to yelp even as tendrils of pain shot through her leg as he touched it, "Um hum," she whimpered.

He shook his head as he watched her ankle turn purple and swell even more as he touched it, "It was your bright idea to go hiking...in the daylight...without me. You're lucky I found you."

"What, I didn't yell loud enough? I think the whole park heard me," she sighed, "Of course, you brought out 'Dudley Do-Right' and his pals. So that could have helped a little. Stupid rock. Stupid shoe."

"You were wearing plimsolls, Love," he said, looking at her with a soft gaze, "It wasn't the shoes. You shouldn't have gone out without me."

"You're looking at me like I'm made of glass. You know I'm not."

"I just don't want to see you hurt, Love. I just found you."

"Ditto."

Just then, the cell phone she'd insisted on bringing along even though he protested, chirped for her attention, "This had better be good," she said cheerily, "Because we're on a honeymoon and we plan to be so for another week. So, talk fast," she winked at Spike, " 'Cause, we're busy. And plan to get busier."

"Glad to hear it," her Watcher's tense voice filtered into her ear, "And I wish I didn't have to pull you away from your well deserved happiness, Buffy. But, it seems that, in your absence, another apocalypse has reared its head."

"Oh, that," Buffy grumbled, "It must be Tuesday...somewhere."

IN THE INTERREGNUM

"Joni, your Daddy said you needed to talk to me?"

Joni was pacing, much like her father did. She was all nervous energy, even here. At first Buffy couldn't understand it. She thought that maybe something would change inside; she thought that something would be different about them. But then she remembered that when she was first here, she was still who she was. Even though she wasn't on that plane of existence anymore, she was still who she was. She didn't change. Why would she expect it to be different for the ones she loved?

Joni ran to her mother's arms, the tears running down her face, "Mommy, is that really you?"

"Yep," Buffy nodded as she held her daughter, "Me and Daddy and Grandma. We're all here. And, we love you."

"I missed you all so much!"

"I know, Sweetheart. And I know you want to help," she winked at her daughter, "So, what do you say you give your Mommy a little help setting someone on the path to becoming your Daddy, and fulfilling a destiny he'd given up on?"

Buffy could see the impish twinkle flare in Joni's eye. She was so like her father that it made Buffy smile, "Okay," Joni smirked as she held her mother's hand, "what did you have in mind?"

Buffy leaned close to Joni's ear and whispered, "I was thinking, we needed to do something really important to get his attention."
*****************

Spike didn't like it. Slayers didn't just trip on rocks and twist their ankles until they became swollen purple masses, despite what Buffy said. In all the times they'd been locked in combat, whether he was her enemy or her ally at the time, she never once twisted her ankle. Not once in all the time she fought him. This just wasn't right.

Buffy tried to push him away. She didn't need him to hold her up. She could walk to the car on her own. Okay, so it was more like hobbling, but it still got her to the car, "Spike, go away, I'm fine," she saw the worry mixed with a touch of fright, competing for dominance in his eyes, "Don't get me wrong, I love that you're so attentive. And, the next time I get the flu, I'll soak up all the attention you can give out," she put her hand to his cheek, trying to soothe the worry lines she saw there, "But right now I need you to stop treating me like spun glass. It makes me nervous. And, it's just a twisted ankle. In two days I'll be ready to spar with you again," she smiled, "It'll be just like old times."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of, Love. I'm not ready for another apocalypse right now," Spike shut his eyes, suddenly realizing that for the first time in six months, perhaps longer, he was admitting to being scared, "I don't think I'm fit to be in that world. And, I can't protect you unless I'm on top of my game. And I'm nowhere near ready."

Her face softened as she smiled at him. She really did love him. And she could say that now. Buffy knew that she would do whatever she had to, to keep that lost, sad look from overshadowing the sparkle in his eyes, "Who says I need protecting?" Buffy asked, wishing she could wipe the worry out of his azure eyes.

At his downcast eyes, indicating her bruised ankle and she countered his silent argument, "That was gravity. It wasn't demonic. Even the best person, Slayer or not, falls down sometimes," she shrugged her shoulders, "And as far as apocalypses go, they come whether you're ready or not. But, if it'll make you feel better, there are still six hours until sunset. Why don't you rest? Then we can get back to the world saving business."

Spike let out an unnecessary sigh, "All right. I know you think I'm being overcautious. But something in me is telling me that whatever Rupert has brewing, it feels big and bad and ugly, and I don't like it. I want to keep you from it, if I can."

"Spike, I love you for that. I do. But, ugly, big and bad, that's what I'm good at."
******************

APRIL 10, 2005-LOS ANGELES

Xander slammed the book closed in frustration. The remnants of the original "Scooby Gang," had been up for the last forty-eight hours, looking for a "Big Bad" that Giles was being extremely vague about, "We got nothing, Giles," he looked up at the Watcher, "Don't you have anything more specific?"

Giles pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to clear his tired vision, and looked knowingly at Willow, who seemed to shrink under the heat of his glare, "I already told you my theory. Willow doesn't want to face the possibility that her spell may have been responsible for this girl's genetic anomaly. Unless we can pinpoint the exact cause, we may have no hope of fighting this when it comes, if it isn't already here."

"And because of the 'Dead Boy Wonder' all we have left of this mysterious Typhoid Mary, is a group of numbers on a piece of paper with the County Coroner's letterhead?"

Giles nodded, grimly.

"Did he drink her blood?" Xander asked, with relish, "Because if he did, maybe we can drain it from him, slowly, and see what it looks like?" he threw the Coroner's report down, in frustration, and it skidded across the table, coming to rest on the floor at the foot of the other side of the table, "I didn't understand trigonometry when I was in school," he yelled, "How am I supposed to understand it, now? Does Angel even understand how evil he is?" Xander asked, through gritted teeth.

"Creatures such as he, rarely comprehend the havoc they reek, until the damage is done," Giles said.
**************************

For the first time in six months, Spike was able to rest. Although he did have dreams, they were different.

He saw the little girl Buffy and he had found dying in an alleyway, on their wedding night. Except, she wasn't dead.

He saw her, striding with purpose through a cemetery. This wasn't patrol, but she carried herself like a Slayer. There was something familiar about the way she carried herself. It reminded him of the way Buffy had moved, after they began to train together. It seemed as if he had trained this Slayer. But the only place that he could remember her face was from that night in the alley. He would have remembered her from the last days of Sunnydale.

She held herself, trying to warm her small frame. Her feet seemed to crunch as she walked, as if there were dry leaves under her feet. He could see the white wisp of her breath as it floated on the air. He could tell that wherever this cemetery was, it wasn't California, by any stretch of the imagination. To Spike, it looked a little more like New England.

The girl looked so lost that Spike decided to follow her. He would stay to the shadows so that she wouldn't see him, but he would follow.

She seemed to sense him, no matter how careful he was to stay out of sight. She wasn't making a point of letting him know that she knew he was there, but she wasn't going out of her way to expose him, either. And, she wasn't headed for the more lighted pathways, so he could tell she wasn't scared.

That was good. Slayers should be alert, but not scared. This Slayer wasn't a newbie.

Just as he was about to settle in and watch a true Slayer work, she addressed him. Without looking back at him, she spoke to him with a voice that was as soft and familiar as an old plush toy, "Don't bother trying to hide, Daddy. I know you're there."

The fraternal form of address froze Spike on the spot. She turned, and smiled. He was gob smacked, "Daddy?" he asked.

She nodded, slowly stepping toward him, "What else would I call you? You're my Daddy."

He stared at her in wonder, "But...how? Buffy and I...we can't."

"That won't make any difference to me when I'm seven, and you're teaching me how to ride a bike without training wheels."

"Are you real?"

"As real as your dreams are," she smiled, "More," she knelt in front of a tombstone and lovingly brushed the dry leaves away.

He tried to read the name that was carved into the stone, but she moved to block his view, "No Daddy. This isn't important now," she straightened, turning to see him with her back to the engraving, "The thing that has been creeping inside you, that you've been scared of?" her eyes stayed on the ground, "I'm the cause of it," she looked into his horrified gaze, "Please don't look at me like that, Daddy. I didn't know I was going to hurt you." Spike could see that she was crying, "I just missed you and Mom so much. I just wanted to see you. I didn't know. I'm also the cure, too," she whimpered, "But, Angelus doesn't know that," she sniffed, her arms itching to hold him and have him tell her he loved her again. Like he had before her Mom died, "You have to save me, Daddy. You have to save me, and Mommy, too."

"I can't do that if I don't know your name, Dove."

She blinked in surprise, "Dove?"

Spike nodded, indicating the mark on her cheek, "Oh, I forgot," she said placing her hand on her face, over her mark, "That's what you used to call me. My name is Joni. It's Jonina, actually. Jonina Dustin. Remember, okay? It's time to wake up now, Daddy. The answer is back in Los Angeles. I know you can do it, Daddy. I have faith in you."

Spike woke up at dusk, and he and Buffy packed up the car and headed back to Los Angeles.
*************************

On the long drive back to Los Angeles, Spike thought about the dream he'd had. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got; angry enough to propel him to do something about what he was feeling.

As he drove, he waited for someone to pick up the line. It was Giles who answered, "Watcher, the Slayer and I are headed back. We should reach the Jennings Street dojo just before dawn. Before we arrive, see what the Council can unearth on the girl Buffy and I sent to the coroner March twenty-second. She's not a 'Jane Doe' anymore, Giles. She has a name. It's Jonina Dustin."

"How did you know?" Giles asked.

"Don't ask, Watcher. Just get me the information, any way you can."

The look on Spike's face left Buffy with no doubt as to whom his Grandsire was. It also told her he was serious, and deadly so. And that frightened her. She placed her hand on his arm, feeling the taught muscles under his shirtsleeve. He was tense. Too tense for her own comfort, "Are you all right?" she asked.

His jaw twitched as he told her, "I will be. Just as soon as I get my hands on Angelus."

Spike strode into the Jennings Street dojo that had become the makeshift research station for the "Scoobies" of late. He was starting to feel like his old self again. Buffy had been right, being back in the world-saving business was just what the doctor ordered.

And the possibility that throttling Angelus might actually help to save the world? Well, that was an unexpected bonus.

"Well Watcher, what have you got for us?"

"Us?" Giles asked.

"Yeah," Buffy said, as she came in behind Spike, "with a name like Dustin," she shrugged, "I figured this was a we thing and not just a he thing."

"Oh," he nodded, "Quite right," he noticed Buffy's slight limp, "Demon fighting, I presume?"

She shook her head, " Nope, just good old- fashioned gravity."

"Well, that does happen to the best of us." Giles said.

Buffy leaned into Spike's side, lovingly patting him on the shoulder, "That's what I've been trying to tell this guy."

Giles's face changed as if a cloud had passed over it. He picked up the plastic bag that held Jonina Dustin's belongings and felt the weight of it. These meager belongings weighed more than they should have. Perhaps that was because her life carried within it the life or death of the Slayers.

He turned the bag over in his hands as he approached Spike. Suddenly his head felt heavy on his neck. Spike seemed to notice, "The weight of the world on your shoulders there, Watcher?" he asked gently as he took the bag from him, "Let me take it," Spike shrugged as he saw from Giles's eyes how important this little life was, "It's what I'm good at."

Giles's voice was gruff, "Yes. Well, the two of you may want to go somewhere private to go through the girl's effects," he turned to retrieve the coroner's report from the table behind him. "Along with this," he held up the report, "Those few things are all that remain of Miss Jonina Irene Dustin."

"What happened to the body?" Spike asked.

"Cremated. Her father identified her and had her cremated, almost immediately."

Buffy was confused, "Then shouldn't we be talking to him?" she turned her attention to Spike, "Maybe he's a distant relative of yours?"

Giles burst forth in an awkward fit of laughter, "If I hadn't lived on a Hellmouth, that would almost be funny," at their quizzical looks he added, "The answers are in the girl's effects. And, the reason that report and those personal items are all that's left of that young woman," he said, his gaze and jaw hardening, "Is because of Angelus."
**************

The girl's life was so small that Spike knew he had to protect it. And it wasn't just because of the dreams. He could take the dreams, because they weren't substantial. He could dismiss them. But, he couldn't dismiss this. This was real. So real, it made his knees weak. And what made it real was the ring that he was holding in his hand.

It just seemed so small. It was so small that the edges of his entire world seemed to implode in on themselves, taking him in their wake.
**********************

He looked at Buffy and saw the pain and sadness that he was sure she could see in his eyes, "Buffy, this little girl seems to be very important to us, not just the Slayers, but us."

Before she could respond, Buffy could feel the tears building up behind her eyes as she looked at the Zippo lighter and the wedding band as they were arrayed on the small table in the small locker room in the back of the dojo, "Yep," she said. She took a deep breath, and tried to be strong. He needed her to be strong.

She stared at the small notebook that had her name on it, "Have you looked at her book, yet?"

He shook his head, "No. I'd rather face a herd of fire-breathing dragons, and Mathias Pavaine, in one night."

"Know what you mean," she admitted, "It is kind of creepy. Feels kind of like we're spying. Sort of like 'Back To The Future.' But still, if it's that important, enough that Giles makes that face," she winced as the look on the man's face flashed through her head, "maybe we should. Do you want me to do it?"

Spike held the volume in his hand and gently turned it over. He'd faced the fires of Hell, looked into the face of death and spit in its eye, won and lost his soul and went a few rounds with a Hellgod, and he was still standing. So why did something so small make his hands shake so badly?

In an effort to hide his trembling hands, he thumbed through the pages, stopping to pull out some loose papers that were pressed in between the pages, "These seem to be addressed to her Mum," he looked at her and tilted his head in sympathy as he handed them to her, "I guess that would be you."

She nodded and bit her lip, taking in a cleansing breath, "Okay. Jumping in, now," she said as the papers passed from his hand to hers, "I'll go first. You want to take the diary, somewhere else?" she asked.

He shook his head, his eyes locked on hers, "No way, Love. I'm not going anywhere," he gave her a knowing smirk, "I'm not leaving, until you toss me out. And, that's final."
******************************

Dear Mommy,

I'm eight now, but you know that. I'm writing this because Daddy says that you miss taking me on bike rides and you want me to tell you everything that I do at school.

I remember, last Trick-Or-Treat Night. I went as a Princess. And you and Daddy went as a vampire and a Slayer. I thought Daddy's scrunchy face was very funny. I kind of like it when he does that. I think you do too, because you got that special look on your face, the one you don't think I see. The one you only get when I'm in bed. But, I'm not in bed. Sometimes I sneak out. I'm really quiet so you don't see me.

I got so much candy. Daddy said I'd get a tummy ache. I did. Do you remember that? Daddy says you get sad now, because sometimes you forget things.

Don't worry Mommy. I'll tell you things if you forget them. I can do that. I'm a big girl. You know that. I love you, Mommy. I hope you never go away. I love you a lot. And Daddy does too. I hope you don't forget that, but if you do, I can tell you again. That's okay. Mommy, I love you. Remember, okay?

Love,

Joni


The little girl scribble brought a tear to Buffy's eye. She didn't think she could do this, not alone. But she wasn't alone. Spike was with her, "Oh God, Spike," she whimpered, "I don't think I can do this."

"You can, Love," he said as he gently kissed her tears away, as they drifted down her cheeks, "You can. You're strong. You're the Slayer."

Buffy looked at the aged bits of paper that sat on her lap. Some of them were covered in a rainbow of crayon markings and whimsical drawings. They looked like homemade greeting cards. Cards made with love, by little hands. Hands that she might never get a chance to know, because of Angel.

Buffy opened one of the cards. But it wasn't a card. It was a drawing. The drawing was of a blonde stick figure, obviously meant to be her, wearing big, fluffy angel wings on her back. At the bottom of the paper was the line, "I Miss You Mommy."

"Spike," Buffy turned the drawing so that he could see it, "look at this."

His jaw twitched and his eyes widened as he looked at the scene on the paper. It depicted a moment in time that only someone who'd actually known them, could possibly put pen to paper and draw. It must have been a Slayer dream. Poor little thing, to be saddled with that, at so tender an age, it was a hard thing for him to go through and he could only imagine what it must have been like for her to see her Mummy, die.

On the page was a crayon-colored nightmare. Buffy, lying on the rubble of a construction site, while a stick drawing with a black body and a shock of yellow on his head, was in the corner crying blue teardrops. Above that was a figure with white angel wings, racing to heaven.

"I think it's my turn now, Love," he said as he opened the journal.
****************

The diary spanned from the year 2022 to 2029. Just seven years, but seven years was a long time for someone so young. It was long enough for him to fall out of love with Dru, and in love with Buffy. Worlds were won and lost in less time. This was obviously a time of great turmoil in this young person's life. The pages fairly screamed it out to him.

July 8th 2022

My Aunt Willow gave me this diary because she thought I would be needing to talk to someone. My Mommy is really sick now, and all my Daddy does is cry. I know that all the Slayers are getting sick, but I thought my Mommy wouldn't. I don't know why she's sick, but I think it's my fault.

Daddy says it's not. But then, he gets this funny look on his face, and he hugs me so tight I can't talk. He says he loves me, but he's so sad.

Still, he gives us our medicine every day, Mommy and me. I don't know why he gives it to me. It hurts when the needle pokes me, but I don't cry. I'm a big girl.

Mommy can have my medicine, too. I know if Mommy has enough, she won't be sick anymore. That's what Daddy says, so Mommy can have mine.

I told my Daddy that today. He started crying again and hugged me, too tight. I know I make him sad, but I don't know why.

It was obvious that some sort of illness had struck the Slayers. Poor little sprite, no child should have the world on their shoulders when they should be mucking about in their Mummy's makeup and playing with tiny teacups.

But, the entry that really gave him pause was one of the last ones. It told of a daughter's discovery of a secret that spurred her to hurtle herself into his life.

February 26th 2028

I found your research today, Daddy. I wish you would have told me. But, I guess you didn't want to hurt me anymore. It's too late for that now. I understand why I'm the last Slayer now. And, I know why you got sick. God Daddy, why didn't you tell me?

I lost Mom, and you told me it wasn't my fault, but it was. I understand why you lied. But that doesn't bring you back, or Mommy. And you're who I need now. I wish I was still a little girl, and you were here to hold me and kiss and hug me, and put me to bed at night. But you're not, neither of you.

Maybe Angelus should have killed me. Maybe then you'd still be here, singing like you used to.

I loved watching you and Mommy dance. It was like magic. I miss you both so much.

I'll have you back, I promise.
**********************

Spike placed the precious things back into the plastic bag, and tucked it into his pocket. He left the small locker room in a state of shock. He had to know if Angelus had access to this journal, his daughter's life. He had to know if he had taken it upon himself to make a grief-stricken wish come true.

He'd read, with horror, the details that surrounded his own deathbed. His only hope was that Angelus didn't have the patience to read, and comb through, every single detail of her life. He hoped that he hadn't read every tear-stained word, and didn't know his daughter's every joy and sorrow. Because if he did, it might come down to a battle between them, for the life of a true innocent.

Spike was glad that Buffy wasn't the one who read all the gory details. He didn't know if she could handle it. Honestly, he didn't know if he could. But, he had to.

The look in Buffy's eyes told Spike that she was asking the same question.

He walked slowly up to the Watcher and asked the question they both needed the answer to, "Rupert," he rasped out, "tell me Angelus did not find that journal."

"I wish I could. He's the one that pointed it out to me."
*******************

APRIL, 20 2005- SOMEWHERE IN LOS ANGELES

Talitha Sands opened the door. She and David had been inundated with flowers and congratulations lately, because they were expecting. The baby was due to arrive some time early next year.

The house was so full of flowers now, that she didn't know if there was enough room for more.

When the doorbell rang, she went to the door and signed for the flowers that the deliveryman was holding, "Thank you," she said, taking the box and closing the door.

Everyone was being so nice, she thought as she looked around for a space that wasn't crowded with blooms. That was going to be hard to find, the house was starting to look like a botanical garden.

She opened the box and saw what was inside. She dropped the box, and the blooms it held inside it, and screamed for her husband.

David Sands rushed to his wife's side and saw the black roses lying on the floor.
*****************

     David Sands rushed to calm his wife.  The way she screamed, he thought something had happened to the baby.  When he looked her over and found nothing amiss, he widened his search to include the floor.  Seeing the fallen florist’s box and the flowers that were strewn on the dining room floor, he tried to soothe her as best he could, “Maybe it was just a mix up at the florist, Sweetheart,” he said, looking around the room at the veritable jungle his house had been transformed into, “It looks like all the flora from miles around is in our house at the moment.  How many people did you tell, anyhow?” David rubbed Talitha’s shoulders, gently kissing the nape of her neck, “Maybe they ran out of all the other colors?  What does the card say?”

     “I don’t know,” she sniffed, looking at the piece of white cardboard that was in amongst the black petals, “I didn’t look.”

     David knelt to pick it up, “Well, let’s find out, okay?” he flipped the card over and read aloud, “ ‘Congratulations on your bundle of joy.’  See?” he assured her, “Just a mix up.  Hey I know, to take your mind off of things, why don’t we go out?  Nothing too strenuous, and we won’t be gone long, just to get you out of here, for a while.  How about that new place, ‘Veritas’?”
**********************

     THREE NIGHTS AGO-“VERITAS” NIGHTCLUB

     He strode past the inviting neon sign that declared this new club open for business.  The interior was familiar.  So familiar that his stomach lurched at the sight of the stage.  There had been many a night when he’d been forced to sing like a canary for little or no information.  Or information he could have gotten faster, in his old stomping grounds, just by introducing the right, or the wrong depending on which side of the fence you were on, kind of people to his fangs and fists.

     But this was another town, and another place and another time.  Or so it seemed.

     The bartender hadn’t noticed him.  No matter.  He wasn’t looking to be intimidating, at least not tonight.  Tonight he wanted information.  Information only the bartender knew how to give.

     He slid silently up to the bar and leaned into it.  Without looking up from his inventory of whiskey and rum, the green-skinned gentleman said icily, “I thought I told you never to look for me.  Although, I don’t know why I’m surprised.  Cockroaches can survive a nuclear blast.  Why should you be any different?”

     Angel knew coming in here that he wouldn’t be welcomed with open arms, despite what the sign in the foyer said, but he needed information that only he could provide, “I know,” Angel said, as he looked around at the club’s rather garish décor, “But to be fair, this isn’t exactly hiding.”

     Red eyes narrowed at him, “You aren’t supposed to be looking.  What do you want, here?  I’m busy.”

     “I need to know if a woman’s been in here.”

     Lorne huffed, “Women come in here all the time.  That doesn’t mean I’m gonna pick up the ‘Bat Phone’ and tell you.”

     “You’d notice her.  She most likely is expecting a child.”

     Lorne shook his head and waved his hand dismissively at the door, “Then you’ve got the wrong place.  Pea-In-The-Pod types don’t come in here.  This just isn’t their speed.”

     Angel took a napkin from the bar and fished a pen from his pocket.  He scribbled something on the napkin, “I’ll take the risk.  If she comes in here, call me,” he said as he slid the napkin across the bar.

     Lorne nodded, “Sure.  Now get out.”

     The second Angelus wasn’t darkening his doorstep, Lorne crumpled the napkin into a tight wad of paper, and tossed it, from the three-point range, into the wastepaper basket, “Ice water’s chance in Hell that’ll ever happen.  I do know whom I will call though, and it sure isn’t you.”
*******************
    
     For Spike, the past month had been a blur.  First, he’d been blissfully happy.  There was no way to describe how happy he’d been in that penguin suit, twirling Buffy up and down that dance floor until they were both giddy from the weightlessness of it all.

     Then, his little oasis of life came crashing into the reality of death, and everything changed.

     Now, with this little book in his hands, the two forces of his existence seemed to come together, here.  It seemed that the Chinese philosophers, and dear little Georgina, had been right.  In order to be whole, one did indeed need both.

     He needed Jonina as much as her writings seemed to tell him that she needed him.  He loved her already, and she wasn’t even a twinkle in someone’s eye. 

     He couldn’t give that up.  Not for the world.  Not even for her.  Somehow, he just couldn’t let go of her, of the idea of her.  He needed it.  He needed her.  And no one was going to take her from him.

     Just reading her words, she painted the pictures with such meticulous skill that he could hear the sounds she heard and see the things she saw.

     As he read the words now, he could almost hear the cant of her voice and her cadences as they whispered to him.

     DECEMBER 6, 2027

     We buried you today, Daddy.  Right next to Mom, like you wanted.  George and aunt Willow sang that old lullaby you and Mommy used to sing me to sleep with, even after I’d grown out of it.  I heard it on the television just yesterday.  That film has got to be almost a century old.  But then again, it kind of makes sense.  It was like you and Mommy were trying to tell me everything was going to be all right and that you were still out there somewhere, watching out for me.

     I stopped to listen, and I cried a little.  I miss you both so much.  I can still hear it in my head, as if you were right here.  It helps me get to sleep at night.  I asked George to write the words down for me, for me to look at when I need you:

     “Baby mine, don’t you cry.  Baby mine, dry your eyes.  Rest your head close to my heart, never to part, baby of mine.  Little one, when you play, don’t you mind what they say; Let those eyes sparkle and shine, never a tear, baby of mine.  If they knew sweet little you they’d end up loving you, too.  All those same people who scold you, what they’d give just for the right to hold you.  From your head to your toes, you’re not much, goodness knows.  But, you’re so precious to me, cute as can be, baby of mine.”

     I know it’s not you, Daddy.  But, it’s close enough.

     Spike blinked away the tear he felt in his eye as he closed her book, “Don’t you worry, Sweetling,” he sighed as he made his vow to her, “I’ll find you.”
***********

    IN THE INTERREGNUM

     Joni was so excited she couldn’t stand still.  She and Buffy were locked in a hug so tight that not even a crowbar could pry them loose, “I told you it would work, Daddy!  See, I told you!”

     Buffy smiled at Joni, “Yeah, you sure did.  But I think your Daddy forgot just how sentimental he really was…make that is, deep down,” she said as she kissed his face and watched his eyes roll up in surrender to the feminine influences of his world.  Buffy even thought she heard him sigh, “Oh, you love it,” she teased, “I bet you used to cry at Garbo pictures, right?”

     Spike’s back went rigid, “I bloody well did not!” he hissed.  But Buffy could tell that he was covering.  Being the “Big Bad” for Jonina’s benefit.  But she knew she was right.  Wives just knew that kind of thing, “Uh huh,” she nodded.
*******************

      APRIL 20, 2005

     George answered the telephone quickly.  No one who wanted a schedule of martial arts classes usually called this late at night.  Still, just to be on the safe side, “Synergy Dojo, may I help you?”

    “Is the heir apparent, about, Georgie Girl?  I need to talk to him.”

     “Lorne!  How are you?  Is this important?”

     “Only in a Messianic sort of way.  Listen, don’t bother him if he’s busy saving damsels in distress.  Just let him know that I’m sending a very important couple, apocalyptically important, to rest at his inn for the night.  Tootles, Georgie.”

     Lorne gave the couple the address on Jennings Street, “Go to this address, nowhere else.  The couple that run the place, they’re friends of mine.  And, they’re yours, too.  Believe me,” he motioned to the cabdriver, “I’ll have Bernie, here, take you there.  I trust him.  He’ll get you there, without a scratch.”

     “Thank you.” David said, as he took the address from him.
***************************

George took the message, picked up the phone to dial the extension but then thought better of it. Lorne had said that he would be sending the couple over, so no need to disturb them.

Bad news was like the night that followed the day; it came whether you wanted it to or not. This could wait a few hours.
*****************

"Spike, there's nothing you can do," Buffy tried to smooth the worry lines away with her fingers, "I'm here. And, I'm alive. Right here," she pulled his gaze to her, "I'm here," she saw the far away look in his eye. Usually when they were together, in the quiet moments, he was with her. But tonight, he was elsewhere. She bit back the unreasonable jealousy that she felt for a phantom girl, and asked, "Where are you?"

The timber of her voice brought him back to the present. It reminded him of how his own voice sounded to his ears on those nights that she had used his presence to fill the void of her life. Back then, he would talk to her just to fill the silences so that he wasn't alone, even when he was with her.

He hated that he had brought her voice to such desperation, "Sorry Love," he said as he kissed her lips, "I know I should be here. I've wanted this for so long. My God," he sighed his apology into her skin, "I'm such a fool. You're here," his fingers began a slow and deliberate dance over her body, drinking her into his memory. Tracing every curve as if he'd been a blind man just granted his sight.

Buffy sighed as his loving adoration hummed over her skin, sending little tendrils of pleasure up her spine and radiating out to her fingers and toes. She felt herself slowly burning as his touch began spreading a pleasing rime throughout her body. The depth of what she was feeling had no words. She wanted to give back all the things he'd given her, and more.

She wept at the inadequacy of language.

Spike looked down and saw the tears well up in her eyes. He was drowning again, in the quicksilver of jade. He'd swam these depths a thousand times, and he would swim them a thousand more, "I know, Buffy," he breathed, "I feel it, too," his voice was deepened with the passion he felt for her, "God, I love you. So much," he shook his head and kissed her brow, feeling her eyelashes caress his lips as she closed her eyes, "You don't have to say it. I know."

She shook her head, hoping that he would understand her need. She kissed his neck and gently rocked him until he was beneath her, "No, I have to show you," she sighed as she placed small kisses of flame deep into his flesh. Buffy tried to press her body as close to his as she could. For Buffy, she could never, would never be close enough.

She knew the things he could not voice. Words were useless here, in this place. In this place that was no place at all, because there was no difference between them, here, when she took breath into her it was his heart that beat.

Here, when he bled, it was she who wept.

Spike tried to swim against the tide of ecstasy that was swamping him. She had to stop or her fire would consume him. And he didn't care. He wanted it.

The passion of her loving touch and the long, exquisite tortures that her kisses were, stoked the flames that lapped at his heart, "Buffy," he wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to give her the world. The forces inside of him were struggling to surface, making words difficult.

She felt his body tremble under her slightest touch. "Buffy," he gasped, "if you don't stop," his head lulled and his eyes drifted shut, "Oh, for...please...don't stop."

Buffy looked down at Spike's face. The effect that she had on him was beautiful. She loved that she could make him look like this.

Amazingly, his face seemed flushed with the passion they both felt, cheeks reddened from it. His eyes were glazed with lust, his vision unfocused by the feelings she set loose inside of him as she touched and kissed him into a babbling, blissful idiot.

She loved it. Buffy smiled down at him, "Wasn't gonna," she giggled as she took his lips to hers.

"Oh, God," Spike moaned as his head flew back on to the pillows, "...Killing me," he rose up to meet her.

Buffy hummed with pleasure, "Hmm...Love you. Let it go, baby. Love you so much," she sighed, as they fell into the rhythm of the ages, "Want to see all of you. Every part. Show me all of you baby."

Spike swept her up in his arms, and his azure gaze swirled to amber as he gazed down at her, "That's it," she smiled, tilting her head to expose her neck. His lips whispered a tender, "I love you, Buffy," as he kissed her pulse point.

Buffy felt the fangs as they slowly kissed her neck. He never took more than a thimbleful during these moments, but in something that small, she discovered, over and over again, how vast and their love could be.
*****************

Angel didn't know why he thought the reception at 'Veritas' would go differently. How did he expect that Lorne would trust him when he wasn't being entirely trustworthy, himself?

He had regrets. He regretted not having Buffy with him. But, she was happy now, and that was because Spike did something that Angel could now admit, although not in the open, certainly, that he couldn't give her. Buffy was happy. And, so was Spike.

If it took getting rid of one dead girl to keep them that way, he would take it.

The journal with the familiar scrawl on its pages, stayed under lock and key. It would stay there. He held it back from them to let Buffy keep the life she had now. She love Spike, and even though he'd rather take a noonday walk than tell him so, and watch that self-satisfied smirk grace his lips, Spike loved her.

This small journal, in William's elegant handwriting, detailed the full extent of his grief. He'd mourned for her, and for the fact that he'd tried to race vainly against the insidious predator that had brought her death with it.

He wanted to do what he could to save them both from that. So, he kept silent. For her happiness, and his.
**********************

The few hours of peace that they had had were inturrepted by a discrete knock at the door. Dawn's uncomfortable whispers broke it, "Um, guys? Sorry to interrupt, but, it seems we've got visitors. See you down in the dojo, proper, in... ten minutes?"

Spike kissed Buffy lightly as he sighed in response, "Make it fifteen, Bit, and you got a deal."

"Okay. But it is important. Lorne referred them."

"Got it," he looked at Buffy and smiled, "Ready for another apocalypse, Love?"

"Lead the way," she said.

David Sands was still trying to make sense of what had happened tonight. He had only wanted to take his wife somewhere to get her mind off of the florist's mix up. Talitha liked karaoke, at least she had when they were dating. They used to go to "Caritas" on a weekly basis. That is, until it closed for repairs and then never opened again. So, when Lorne Green opened a new place, David thought it would be the perfect way to brighten his wife's mood, maybe make her feel like everything was going to be okay and that she didn't need to be scared.

But then he and Talitha got up to sing a few bars of that sappy little elephant lullaby that she loved so much, in honor of their unborn child, and everything went crazy.

Before they knew what was happening, they were being whisked off, like they were in the witness protection program, to somewhere they didn't know, to be protected by people they didn't know from something that they couldn't see.

If this was a prank, Joe was going to have some explaining to do at the office about the shiner he was going to have on Monday morning.

Talitha, however, seemed to be in her element here. She even seemed to know who the girl who greeted them at the door was. This was just another example of just how mysterious Talitha could be. She never said much about her life before they'd begun dating. But somehow David knew that these people held the answers to some of the riddle his wife was to him.
***********************

Dawn opened the door to let the couple in. She fully expected to have to make up some outrageous cover story to explain Lorne's otherworldly appearance to them, but when Lorne told her that they'd been regulars, at least separately, at his other club, she knew that she might not need to explain as much as she might have otherwise.

She opened the door and saw a face she knew well from her days of rounding up Slayers after the Hellmouth was closed in Sunnydale, "Talitha Littleton?" she asked, hugging the girl, "How long has it been?"

"Hello Dawn," Talitha said, "It's been almost two years. And it's Sands now," she said as she nodded to the man who stood at her side, trying to take in everything.

"Oh," Dawn extended her hand in greeting, "How do you do? My name is Dawn Summers. Your wife and I used to," she looked at Talitha to get a feel of just how much of a lie she should spin for this man. Talitha's eyes told her to spin big. Her eyes returned to him, "go to gymnastics school together," she winced a little for his benefit, "Believe me, it's not as much fun when your sister's an instructor. But we managed," she said with a smile while she extended her hand.

"David Sands," he said, but refused to take the hand she offered to him, "Mr. Green told us to meet someone here. Someone named Dustin?"

Dawn kept smiling, even though she thought the man was being rude. Maybe he was just not used to meeting new people. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, until he confirmed otherwise, "Then you've got the right place. They'll be down in just a few minutes," Dawn tried to make small talk, "So," she asked Talitha, "is this handsome guy the reason you left the Academy?"

"No," Talitha glanced down, unable to meet Dawn's eyes, "Remember my..." she searched for the right words to let Dawn know just why she'd left the Slayer training facility, without letting her husband find out, "insomnia? Made it hard to train?" she nodded, hoping Dawn would catch on.

She did. Dawn knew why Talitha left. Talitha left for the same reason she came. She was having dreams of Spike. It was hard to go out and hunt vampires because they were evil, when one that was so clearly not, haunted your dreams.

The dreams had haunted Talitha Littleton so much, that she took a bus, all the way from Kansas to Los Angeles to find Buffy and train with her. That was right before they'd pulled up stakes and moved the whole Academy to Rome.

"Oh," Dawn's eyes widened as she remembered who was upstairs, "That can be a problem," she said as she backed toward the staircase, "Do you still have that problem?" she saw Talitha nod, "Oh, I see. Well then... um I think I'd better get Buffy first." Dawn said as she raced up the stairs.

"Buffy!" she called out, as she ran.
**************************

The pounding on the door was so loud it even made Spike nervous, "Hold your knickers on, Bit. We've still got five minutes."

Dawn's voice was a tense whisper, "Buffy, that visitor you've got, the ones that Lorne sent over? One of them you know already."

"Who is it?"

There was a sigh from behind the door, "Talitha Littleton. You remember her? She had those dreams... about Spike?"

Buffy tried to discern Spike's mood by his eyes. She honestly didn't know whether he was shocked or flattered, or a bit of both. He nodded, "And let me guess. She doesn't know I've come back from the 'Great Beyond,' yet?"

"No, she doesn't. That's why I thought that it would be better if Buffy came down to meet her, you know, first."

"Okay, Dawn. I'll be right down."

Spike could see from Buffy's eyes that she did not want to leave him, "It's okay, Pet. I'll stay up here until you give the, 'all clear.' Don't want to frighten the poor thing, or the little tot she's carrying."

Buffy was surprised at that, "She's pregnant?"

He raised an eyebrow in response, "Yeah. Heard the little thing the minute our guests came through the door. That one's strong. A real scrapper."

"How did you know?" Buffy asked.

"Simple Love," he said as he kissed her, "I can count. There are five, living breathing, human beings in this dojo. Downstairs and up; but there are six heartbeats."

"Wow."

He shrugged, "Just a little something we vamps are good at."
**********************

Buffy hugged Talitha, "It's good to see you," she looked at the freckle-faced man standing next to her, "Although I do wish it were under different circumstances. Dawn said that Lorne sent you, and that you need our help, is that right?"

David bristled. Lorne Green had said that these people would help them. But so far all he'd seen was a secretary and a teenage girl. And the more his wife talked to these people the more cagey she seemed. He didn't like it, not one bit, "Excuse me, Miss..."

"Misses," Buffy corrected, "Dustin. Buffy Dustin."

"Oh," Talitha exclaimed, reaching for her left hand to see the ring she wore, "You got married?"

"Uh huh. So did you."

Talitha nodded, "Yes. I did. But, I didn't think you would after..."

Buffy rolled her eyes in excitement, "Oh believe me, I've had a weird year!"

David Sands couldn't take it any more. He tried to lie to himself about the flowers. He tried to explain away the strange little gifts that had been appearing on their doorstep, every day for the past month, but he couldn't explain it away. Some psychopath was frightening his wife and child, and the people who were supposed to help them wanted to talk about wedding rings and china patterns? This was ridiculous, "Excuse me," he said, "but we came to you for help. Some weird guy is leaving dead birds and flowers on our doorstep! He's been doing it every night for the past month. We want him to stop. If you can't help, I'll find someone who can!"

Buffy tried to calm him, "Take it easy, Mister..."

"Sands!" his face was getting red from the exertion, and if he yelled any louder, Buffy was sure Spike would come bounding down the stairs in full game face, "Just like I told your little girl over there!"

"Sands," Buffy said calmly, "My husband and I are very good at this type of thing. If we weren't, Lorne wouldn't have told you to come here. It's just that, my husband is an old friend of Talitha's and it might be a bit," Buffy looked at Talitha, begging her to catch on and follow her lead, "awkward for her to see him after all this time."

Buffy could see the light of recognition in her eyes. She always had been a quick learner. The best of her class as a matter of fact. Talitha would have made a good Slayer. If only the dreams hadn't introduced her to the enigma that was Spike.

She nodded slowly, taking the silent information that Buffy was sending her, "Oh... really? Isn't that nice," Talitha took the first seat she could find, "I think...I'd better sit down?" she nodded to Buffy with her eyes wide.

"I think that would be a good idea. Just to be on the safe side," Buffy agreed, "And Dawn can bring you a glass of water," she looked at Dawn, "Would you?"

"Sure," Dawn said, taking a Dixie cup into the ladies restroom, and filling it with water.

When Buffy was sure Talitha and David were sufficiently calm, she called out, "William, you can come down now."

"Coming, Love."

Talitha had only heard that voice in dreams. But now it was attached to an actual someone. Talitha had been curious what he really looked like. And it seemed she was about to find out.

As Spike came down the stairs, he caught sight of a girl. Well, to him she was a girl, but she was of childbearing age, that was obvious from the tiny flutter of a heartbeat that beat just under her own. And for some reason, it seemed to pick up speed as he got closer. The girl had features he recognized somehow.

But, there was one feature that was unmistakable. The birthmark on her cheek shaped like a bird in flight.

He walked slowly over to the couple, "Hello," he said, nodding to the husband first. His eyes lingered a fraction longer on the woman he'd seen in his dreams, "I think we can help," he knelt down to take Talitha's hand, fully aware of the watchful eyes of her husband, "My name is William Dustin," he could see recognition and admiration in the woman's eyes. She knew him. She hadn't seen him before, but she knew him. He was looking into the eyes of a Slayer, and he knew it, "Your wife, and some others may know me better by a nickname I picked up when I was a bit younger. I was a bit of a ruffian and I made quite a name for myself," his eyes flashed at Buffy and at Talitha, "People in certain circles used to call me, 'William The Bloody.' Some people still call me that. Or they call me, 'Spike.' I assure you that I'm not nearly the cad I used to be. But, if someone is stalking you, Lorne was right to send you here. I heard some of the conversation my wife and you were having Mr. Sands. And, I think I know who this person is. I have had run ins with him, and his type before," he stretched to his full height and spoke to the husband again, "This would go so much smoother if we all had our cards on the table," he could hear Buffy's breath hitch. She didn't want him to tell this man anything he wasn't ready to hear, so he would not. It was only a simple question to see how far he would be permitted to go, in the man's presence, "Don't worry, Mr. and Mrs. Sands. We'll find this," he looked at Talitha. She knew what he knew. She knew exactly who was toying with her, he'd done it for centuries. The question was, how much did he know, "Person," he continued, "And, we'll make certain that everyone," his eyes flashed toward the unborn child in her womb. The child he had yet to be told existed, "Is safe here. I only have one question sir."

"What is that?"

"What would you do to keep your loved ones safe?"

"Anything I had to."

"I assume, then, that you will allow my wife and I to do whatever we have to do, to keep you safe?"

"Yes, of course."

"Good. Buffy and Dawn will set up some cots in the locker room for you to use tonight," Spike turned to Buffy, and saw her nod, "It's not much. But, it'll keep you safe, and warm, for the night. Tomorrow, we start looking for your stalker."

     IN THE INTERREGNUM

     The horror of what they were asking made Spike want to grimace.  The forces that controlled existence on that plane had definitely been out of the game too long.  Their little girl was not going through that.  Not if he could help it, “Are you daft?” his voice rumbled in a barely contained rage, “You must be, or you wouldn’t ask that.”

     “Child,” the spirit’s voice was calm, even as the atmosphere was in tumult, “Entropy has been fractured.  How do you propose it be mended?”

     “Not this way!” he hissed, “She was just a child.  She missed her father,” his fist thumped his chest, “She missed me.  What did you expect her to do,” Spike’s voice quivered in empathy for her, watching her warm eyes shine, “when the one person she counted on, couldn’t hold on?”

     The spirit was infinitely patient, “Child, humans die.  It is the way of countless universes.  She sought to subvert the natural order.  That cannot be tolerated.  Something must be done.”

     “If you have to punish someone,” he looked longingly at Buffy and Jonina as they huddled together trying to be brave.  Spike’s chin lifted in defiance, “Punish me.  I’m the one who left her alone.  I’m the one that drove her to it.”

     “Daddy, no!” Jonina gasped.

     Spike continued, as if he hadn’t heard her gentle sobbing.  If he allowed himself to be distracted, he knew he wouldn’t have the strength to go through with this, “Because of my mistake, it’s coming ahead of your precious timeline.  Because of my weakness,” he looked at Buffy’s suffering eyes, “A child will lose her mother before she’s ready.  And I will lose something dearer to me than my own…anything!” he fell to his knees, “I’m begging,” his voice was gruff and Buffy could hear the tears in it, “The world needs her.  Let Jonina go.  Please?”

     In the emptiness of time, the spirit contemplated the odd child, bent in supplication, “We shall do as you request, child.”

     Spike bowed his head and his shoulders slumped in relief, and defeat, “Thank you,” he sighed.

     They both knew what the consequences of their actions would be, but once it was done they had to help their daughter.  She was proud of him.  They both knew that the punishment for interfering would be harsh.  They were prepared to take the brunt of it.

     So when they were told that Joni was to bear the horror of that, Buffy was fully expecting to take it, if only to spare him from his worst fear. But he just couldn’t keep the Champion from showing through.

     He refused to hear her arguments against it, stubborn to the last.  He took the pain on himself and placed his heart in her hands again.

     If she were to refuse the sacrifice he was offering her, Buffy would hurt him.  And she had promised herself that she would never hurt him again.

     That would be worse than not having him.

     The very fact that he was willing to do this should have proved to them that he was more deserving of the honor.  Buffy hated the idea that someone less deserving might take it, by default. 

     Buffy experienced something she hadn’t felt for what seemed like millennia, as they led him away.  Time meant nothing here, and she didn’t want it to.  All the time in the world meant nothing to her if he wasn’t with her.  Her heart ached even at the small reprieve of his soft farewell kiss, “Hey, no tears, Love.  Remember? Not here, they don’t belong here,” Buffy watched his face harden in an effort to hide the pain she could feel raging in him, “And now, neither do I.”

     “That’s not true, Spike!  You…”

     Spike brushed away Buffy’s tears, “No more tears.  I have enough of my own.  I’m not taking yours with me, too.  Then it truly would be Hell,” he leaned over and kissed her ear, “Love you.  Always,” he turned his eyes to Joni, “Always remember I love you, Dove.  You’re my heart.  And now you’re my soul.  You’ll be my true north when your Mum can’t be that for me.  He’s going to need you, Dove.  I need you.  I love you.”

      “We love you too, Daddy!” Joni sobbed, “Remember, please.”

     Buffy watched his eyes, those beautiful eyes, as they slowly faded into the mists of time.

     She cried at the pain of separation, and her heart ached with pride. 
**********************************

     NOVEMBER 1, 2030

     The man walked through the cemetery with his heart in his throat.  The ache was a familiar companion now.  It was the only friend he had now.

     The closer he got to the cluster of headstones, the more he wanted to scream but there was just no room for words here.

     He hated being here, not just because of the cold, but also because of the fact that being here brought some painful memories.

     He knelt down, stirring the leaves under his weight.  There was a sense of déjà vu about being here.  Like someone had seen it all before.  

     “Hello William,” he said, taking in his surroundings.  All around him there was death.  From the dying leaves and the grey winter sky, to the headstones of departed family and friends, all around him was death.

     He focused his attention on the task in front of him, “Who knew?  Someone once told me that prophecies were tricky things,” he hung his head in shame, “Who knew that that was the one time he was telling the truth?”

     He looked at the newest stone to be erected in this part of the cemetery.  He knew it was the newest because he was the one who’d had it placed here.  He had it placed here so that there would be an acknowledgment of her.

     They would have wanted it that way.

     He had begged Willow to pull Joni back before she could change things, maybe make them worse if that was even possible.  Willow had tried.  He’d brought in mystics from the four corners of the earth.  They had worked for nearly a year to find her when Georgie, Willow and he finally gave up.

     Illyria even sacrificed herself in an attempt to retrieve Jonina from a timeline that was foreign to her, and nothing worked.  There wasn’t even a body to burry.  Under the headstone that bore her name, there was just an empty vault.

     A flash of red distracted him on the sea of grey, “Remember when things were so much easier?  Black was black and white was white.  Now there’s so much grey. What’s a person to do?”

     “Holland,” he rasped, “It’s over.  There’s no one left.

     Holland chuckled at the sad scene he made, sitting in this graveyard, with only tombstones for company, “Oh, it’s never over.  You know that.”
************************

     APRIL 21, 2005

     There was a knock at his door.  He double checked the safe and opened the door to reveal Spike, “Hello, Angelus,” he said, looking at him through hooded, suspicious eyes, “I think we need to talk.”
     
    



APRIL 21, 2005

As they put the Sands down for the night, Spike was comforted by the small flutter of the child's heartbeat. He loved hearing it, and judging by the way the little flutter sped up whenever he spoke, the tot had a fondness for him as well.

Will wonders never cease?

That wasn't what was rolling around in his brain right now. Right now, what was worrying him more was the nagging feeling that something was just...off. He couldn't put his finger on what it was, but he would find it.

Buffy managed to drift off to sleep about two hours ago. That was a mixed blessing, because her dreams seemed to be making her sleep restless at best. Her heart rate alone told him that at times, during the night she had been in the realm of nightmares. He did what he could to comfort her, whispering soothing words into her ear.

Lying there listening to her, he couldn't help but kick himself for ever believing Angelus and staying away from her for as long as he did. As he listened to the soft cries fill the room, even as he tried to comfort her, he was reminded of the pain he felt when he first realized that he didn't belong anywhere. Hell wouldn't have him, and he wasn't vain enough to think that Heaven would.

So, where did that leave him? It brought him here, awake in the wee hours of the morning, walking the floor, when he should be holding her. He was here, listening to a quartet of rhythms, trying to chase away the irrational fears that he'd been plagued by for more than six months now.

And, listening to Buffy's lonely cries at his absence, at the absence of what little peace he was able to provide in the midst of the storm that seemed to be raging in her, did nothing to quiet his own.
************************

MAY 30 2003

It was so dark in here that even her eyes were having trouble adjusting. There was no sound except for her heartbeat. This place was familiar, sickeningly so, in fact.

She'd been here every night since Sunnydale collapsed. Every night since he...

She closed her eyes, because she knew what was coming. It was the same every night. Her throat tightened in anticipation. She knew what was coming, and she didn't want to see it. Not again. It hurt to see the pain in his eyes.

"Buffy," his voice was tinged with pain, the sound bore straight to her heart and her nerves fired in sympathy, but Buffy still remained blind to the sight of him. The sight caused her too much pain, "Don't forget me. Please Buffy. You're all I have."

Buffy opened her eyes and saw him. The contrast of his alabaster skin against this pitch-black darkness was striking. So striking that the glare of it hurt her eyes. But, she could not look away. Spike, lying in the void, curled in on himself as if he were in the womb.

She knelt down, just as she did every night, and felt him tremble, "Where are you, Spike?"

The question brought a sob tearing from him. His words were halted and filled with agony, "Alone. It hurts. Nowhere. Angels don't want me. Can't forget. They claw at my eyes so that I can't see," he pulled his limbs in tighter, shielding himself from the tortures Buffy could only imagine, "I scream but there's no sound. Nothing here. Not even me. I learned it all. But I don't remember. Don't make me remember. But I need it," she could see his throat working to keep his pain inside of him, "Buffy, please find me?" he choked.

Buffy woke up, like she had every night since the Hellmouth closed, screaming for him, and covered in sweat.
********************
APRIL 21 2005

Even as he held her, Spike could feel the violent tremor of emotion as it tore through her, "Hush, Love," he soothed, tracing comforting patterns over her skin, "I'm here. I'm here now. And, I'll never let you go," he whispered as he held her close, "Never."

Her cries reminded him of his own when he'd first gotten his soul back. Nothing seemed real. Sometimes, not even Buffy seemed real. It was as if his existence had been placed overtop of something else, and at times, he would fall through the holes and see what was underneath. He would see the things that were hiding just under the surface.

There, his soul could rest. There, he was loved. There, he was at peace.

And now, the dreams of sickness and death, her sickness and death, threatened to send him hurling into madness again.

He would die, again, before he'd let the only peace he'd really had be disturbed.

Spike caught the scent of unshed tears as they welled up behind closed eyelids, and he held her tighter, "Love, it's all right now," he whispered.

Wet eyes looked up at him in astonishment, "Spike?" she asked, as the confusion of sleep slowly began to lift.

"Yeah, Love. It's me."

"Oh, thank God," she sobbed, as she held him tight, "I thought I lost you."

He kissed her lips, reassuring her that he was real, giving her something that she couldn't give him back in Sunnydale, "I'm real. And, I'm not going anywhere."
*******************************
IN THE INTERREGNUM

"But, Mommy you can't do that."

Her eyes flashed, "I know why he did what he did, Joni," her chin quivered at the emptiness and loss she was feeling, "But, you should know by now that your parents don't exactly follow the rules. I promised him once that I would follow him, no matter where he went. And, I'm keeping that promise. He needs me."

"But, what about..."

Buffy gritted her teeth and tilted her head in determination. For an instant, Joni was reminded of her Daddy, and how much she missed him, "Joni, I don't really care what happens. I have to be with him. I can't leave him alone, not when he needs me. What can happen," she asked the wide expanse, "I die again?" she smiled wryly, "Been there. Done that," she hugged her daughter close, "I have to keep my promise, Joni."
***************************
OCTOBER 22, 2002-SUNNYDALE

In the corners they couldn't find him. If he was still, they couldn't find him. If he didn't think or listen to the voices, things would stop spinning. If they stopped spinning, then he could help. He remembered that. And he would help. He did. If only he could make things stop spinning.

Down here, things spun in time with him. When he was here, they made sense. He understood things. The trouble lies in making them understand. Making her understand.

How could he make her understand, when sometimes she wasn't real?

The coolness of the concrete floor grounded him. He sensed her as she knelt beside him. He felt her touch the back of his neck. She always did that when he needed comforting. He missed it, and her, so much. He tried to speak above the pain. He hadn't seen her in so long, he was nearly undone by the nearness of her. He nearly swooned as her scent, the scent of someone barely remembered, touched the air surrounding him and clung to his skin, "I'm in trouble, Buffy."

Warm fingers soothed his brow, "Spike, it's me. It's you, and it's me. And, we'll get through this," she whispered.
********************

NOVEMBER 1, 2030

Holland knelt next to Angel and contemplated the tombstone, "That's the one drawback of being omnipotent, Angel," he sighed and shook his head, "Things are never really over. In fact, things are changing even as we speak," he tilted his head in contemplation, "That is, if we really are speaking. Some day, you may wake up and find you no longer exist. But then," he gestured to the sea of tombstones, "without them, you don't exist, do you? How many times did he try to tell you that, Angel?" he clicked his tongue in sympathy, "If only you had listened. He did understand, Angel. It was you who didn't."
**************



NOVEMBER 1, 2030


As Angel walked through the cemetery, he wondered where he'd gone wrong. The sickness was destroying the Slayer line. So, the thing to do was to find the source of the virus, and eliminate it. That's what he was good at. When a threat came, he found it, targeted it, and killed it. Then humanity would live to see another day.

At least, that was how it was supposed to work. It had always worked that way before. Always.

Except it hadn't worked that way. His way of doing things only seemed to make things worse. He had seen the child as a threat, a genetic anomaly that must be eliminated.

Angel shook his head. Irony was a funny thing. He'd moved heaven and earth to save his own child. He even altered reality so that that child could live a more normal life, and be safe, warm and protected. But, when it came to saving the child that he saw as the agent of the Apocalypse? That was a different story.

He was now beginning to see the grey areas that Spike had been so fond of dwelling in. Only now, it was too late.

"It's never too late, Angel," Holland said, "In fact, 'The times they are a-changing.' Wasn't it Bob Dylan who said that?" at Angel's blank look, Holland continued, admiring a small telescope he carried in his hands. He held it out for Angel to look at, "Have you ever seen one of these?" he turned it over in his hands, and squinted through the glass lens at one end of the cylinder, while turning the other slowly with the fingers of his other hand, "Ingenious really. And to think it's only a child's toy," he turned the disk slightly, "Just one turn of the wrist, and everything changes. All the colors are there. Nothing's been removed, but, one twist and it all moves. It becomes something new. And the old scene, with all its colors, doesn't exist anymore. But take one little grain of sand out, and it's never the same again. No matter how many times you turn your wrist, the colors will never fall the same way twice, because something critical is missing. Sad to think that your existence comes down to child's play, isn't it?" Holland narrowed his eyes at Angel, "Or maybe it comes down to the child?" he shrugged, "Huh, just something to think about."

"What do you want?"

"Not a thing," Holland said, "Just contemplating the universe. Did you know that sand can, and does, turn into glass. All you need is sand, and a few other common minerals. Add a little heat and you've got glass. But if the right kind of sand is left out, then you end up with something else," he gestured to the field that had become a thriving necropolis, "You might end up with places like this," Holland winced at the number of tombstones, "Although, I shouldn't complain. You are keeping the Home Office very busy," his eyes widened as he remembered something he'd forgotten, "Oh," he said, "I meant to thank you," Holland smiled warmly, "I did get that promotion. And, it's all thanks to you."

The ache Angel felt came close to consuming him. Every time he felt the pain lessening a bit, over this last year, Holland would be sure to twist the knife just a little more, "Holland," his voice was tired and on the edge of giving out altogether, "I am tired. There is no way that I can change what happened. I've tried to bring her back," the tears were sliding down his face, "I tried to love her. I really did. But, it wasn't the same. Not like it was with him. And when she found out," his breath shuddered, making his shoulders quiver, "At least, when he was here..." Angel looked at the name on the stone, and his voice suddenly failed him. There was nothing but the pain now.

The stone bore the name of the one person he loved so much that it could only express itself as loathing. That was the only way he knew to express his true feelings. To show love any other way, for him, only brought pain.

Angel knew love. He knew of it. He knew what it was, but not how to feel it, "At least when he was here, I had a buffer. His love for her, and hers for him, it kept me safe from her. But when he left?" he sighed, "There was nothing. And, she hated me, so much!"

Holland knelt down and picked up a handful of dirt. Pressing it between his hands, he let it fall gently to the ground again, "What did you want, Angel? Her father was meticulous, took very good notes," Holland admired, "Even though the grief was consuming him. You didn't think you could keep the truth from her forever, did you?"

The grief contorted Angel's face into a grimace and his shoulders bowed under the weight of it, "He tried to," he gasped in desperation, "Before he..." the rest was a choked sob, "died, he told me to burn it all. He said that he was truly frightened of what she would do," Angel hid his eyes, as the images of William's last few weeks flashed through his mind.

His body had been weak and frail. But his will, oh God, his will was so strong. He was still trying to set things right. Still trying to correct a mistake that wasn't his.

The rest of his body had begun to still. As if it were trying to prepare itself for his final death. But William's eyes still flashed, defiant as ever. It seemed to Angel, at the time, as if something remained of the vampire he had been. If it were at all possible, and even if it wasn't possible, Spike wasn't going to go down, for the final time, without one Hell of a brawl.

Angel remembered, and smiled through the grief he knew Spike would have balked at, "I should have listened."

"First time for everything, I suppose," Holland smirked.
********************************

APRIL 21, 2005

Spike waited until his wife and their new charges had been fed to approach Buffy with his idea, "Love," he began shyly, unable to meet her gaze, "I don't know how clear my thinking has been of late. Recent events seem to have turned my head around a bit."

Buffy looked up from her scrambled eggs, "It didn't do a 360 did it?" she teased as she traced a circle in the air, "Because if it did, we need to run for higher ground."

The retort Spike wanted to give had to be tempered in light of the fact that, at least half of the couple under their protection had no idea what went bump in the night, and if any part of their conversations were overheard it might be difficult to explain. So, even though what was said was completely benign, the eyes said what couldn't be voiced, "You watch too many horror movies, Love."

Buffy watched as Spike's eyes and his body stance told her what he could not. He was scared, and he wanted to find out why. She chose her words carefully, "You watch just as much as I do," she nodded, telling him she understood, "Did you have nightmares again?"

"Yeah, Love," he nodded toward Talitha, whose eye widened at the sudden attention, "Seems to be going around."

Buffy nodded her head, unable to speak because of the mouthful of eggs, "I'll look after David and Talitha until you get back."

Suddenly David separated from the wallpaper he'd been part of, and spoke up, "You're going to leave us and let your wife protect us? We don't even know who this sicko is!"

Spike tried to contain the nearly maniacal laughter that was bubbling up in him because of Buffy's disgusted look, "Trust me, Mr. Sands. My wife is much stronger than she looks. In case you haven't noticed," Spike stepped back and spread his arms wide, showing the space around them, "we run a martial arts dojo," he winked at Buffy, "She works out. I'll be back soon. But until then, you are in good hands."
******************************************

The little white notebook glared up at Angel. The apocalypse that was contained within its pages hit him in a place he didn't want to admit to.

William Alistair Dustin's grief was something that pulled him into its undertow. He was drowning in it, and he would do anything he could to save himself, and Spike from it.

If that meant letting the one person that William's writings pointed to as the source of the virus, die, so be it. He would do what he needed to do to spare Spike from the pain of losing Buffy again.

Even though the pain must have been killing him, Spike painted such a vivid picture that Angel could almost feel the agony with just his words:

SEPTEMBER 21, 2022

I never thought this day would come. I never wanted it to. And, after seventeen years, somehow I thought she would escape it. Or, I thought I'd be dust again before it happened so that I wouldn't have to see it happen. I know it's selfish, but that was what I was trying to do in Sunnydale and in that blasted alley with Angelus, and countless other times. I was trying to disappear so that I wouldn't have to watch her die.

God must be laughing at me now. That is, if the wanker even exists. I watched her die today. I'm supposed to be dead. I must be, because my heart is ripped out. I thought I was dead before, all those years ago, when I let William go. I would have done it a thousand times over. I would. To have her, I would take anything Hell could dish out. I would go through it all again.

I don't even know how I'm here. Yes, I do. I have to take care of her now. She needs me. She's my soul now, my compass. Without her, the world would spin off its axis.

My world. It really is amazing. I've saved the world more than once. But now, the only thing in my world is what shattered it into a thousand shards of glass. Just looking at her is painful. She doesn't understand. I'm not sure I do. Things made more sense on the Hellmouth, when I was mad as a march hare. At least there I had my delusions to keep my mind working, keep it from seizing in agony. But now, I don't know how I'll go on.

I'm so cold.
******************

OCTOBER 8, 2002- SUNNYDALE

For an instant the world spun so fast he couldn't keep up. She was there, right in front of him. She was shimmering with the light he didn't deserve to have eyes to see. He wanted to hide his face from her. She shouldn't have to look at his unworthy face. But somehow the witch didn't see her.

He didn't think that there was anyone more unworthy than he. But it seems there was.

It was then that the world stopped spinning just long enough for him to understand. He clapped his hands, pleased that he'd solved the riddle, "Someone isn't here. 'Button, button, who's got the button?' My money's on the witch," he knew what she did, and now, he saw her gasp as he stared at her, so did she, "Red's a bad girl."
********************

IN THE INTERREGNUM

"I've tried giving her warning," Joyce said, " I even made an appearance for Dawn," she shrugged, "Nothing seems to be sinking in yet. They don't understand."

Joni smirked as an idea struck her, "That's because the recognize you, Grandma. They think you're the First," she tilted her head in thought, "They wouldn't recognize me. If I came to one of them, maybe to Daddy, it might help. And if he does know me, they won't listen to him," she frowned as she felt the pain he was going through because of her, "They think he's mad," her lips quivered, "But even if he doesn't know who I am, to me, he's still my Daddy."
******************

SEPTEMBER 24, 2002- SUNNYDALE

Joni couldn't see her hand in front of her face. That is, if she had a hand to see. But she knew her Daddy was here, she felt him. Her Daddy was here.

She heard a whimpering sound in the corner of the room. Her Daddy's voice sounded like it did after Mommy had died, "No, it's too much. It's just too much."

Jonina knelt down and looked at her father's face. His eyes were closed, but the pain of separation was etched on his face. She saw his unkempt clothing and noticed the gentle rocking motions he was using to comfort himself, and was again reminded of the first few months after Mommy had died, when Aunt Willow took him to that special "hospital" in Rome. And, it broke her heart.

Then she noticed the deep red gashes in his skin, and her eyes welled up with tears, "Daddy, did you hurt yourself?"

He looked at her with glazed eyes, "No. No one's Daddy. Not true. Not true. Not true," the words became a whispered mantra.

"I am true, Daddy. But you have to be brave because Mommy's coming."

Suddenly, there was a commotion outside the little room. Spike's head snapped up, and he moved his stiffened limbs to the door. He placed his hand on the cool, steel door. He knew who was on the other side. He felt her presence and he missed her. Oh, god, how he missed her.

The door came open with a crash, and there she stood. She blinked, and he didn't dare move, if he moved she would disappear again. Was she real?

Then an angel whispered, "Spike, are you real?"

And he laughed because he knew he wasn't.
*************************

APRIL 21, 2005

He'd spent the wee hours of the morning lost in a world of little girl grief. Her little journal was the only thing that tied him to her. It was the only thin he had of her, and that was because of Angelus.

Spike had a strange feeling that Angelus knew more than he let on.

Angelus had the answers. So, it was time to see the wizard.

Spike knocked on the door, "Angelus, we need to talk. I've got questions, and it seems, you might have the answers I need."
*****************


IN THE INTERREGNUM-HOME OFFICE

Even with the daily reports, the numbers were changing faster than Holland was comfortable with. The start date for the endgame was still years away. The biomechanics division was working overtime to perfect the mutation. It couldn't be rushed.

Perhaps the best defense was a good offence. If enough red herrings were thrown in their path, he could prevent the Higher Ups from alerting their Champion too soon.

Holland looked up from his desk as she came in, "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes Persephone. Please come in," he grinned indicating the chair across from his desk, "Sit. I know you're new here, but I think you can handle the assignment I have in mind for you."

"Oh, I can sir!" she said eagerly, "I can't wait to get my hands dirty."

Holland held up the file he'd just been poring over, "This assignment requires finesse. It's deep undercover," he handed her the file and nodded, giving her permission to look through the file.

Persephone slowly flipped the pages and smiled at the Regional Director, "Entropy engagement? That's ingenious! And, it should create just enough confusion to throw them so off track that they may play right into our hands," she bit her lip, "But what about the Champions?"

"Well," Holland sighed, "one of them is safely," he searched for the right word, "contained for the time being. The other, however, is your responsibility," He waved his hand in the direction of the file Persephone was reading, "You will notice that you will be entrenched, complete with a new identity, to be used for the duration of the operation."

She nodded, trying out her new name to see how it felt on her tongue, "Eve?" she smiled, "I could get used to that."
****************

OCTOBER 1, 2002-SUNYDALE

Buffy was still angry at him for leaving town and not letting her take out her revenge personally, "You wanted to talk, so talk. What's going on?"

He was uncomfortable being here, but he knew he deserved the disquiet he felt, "I was hoping you could tell me. You're the Slayer, connected to the visions. Long line of worthies? I'm just a guy with his ear to the ground, and even I can feel it. I don't know what it is, exactly, but something's brewing. Something's coming, Buffy. I don't know what, but, it's so big, ugly and damned it makes you and me look like little bitty puzzle pieces."
*****************

JANUARY 7, 2003 INTERDIMENSIONAL SPACE

"The First did not cause the disruption, only seized upon it," the oracle said.

"What caused the disruption?" Giles shouted into the howling of empty space.

"The Slayer," the oracle said.
*****************

APRIL 21, 2005

"You know something, Angelus, and I'm here to find out what that something is."

Angel looked at the determination in Spike's eyes and was very glad that it was there. He would learn to cope with the loathing and hatred that would be reflected in his eyes because of his subterfuge. He didn't like it. Never would, he supposed. But Angel was committed to keeping the grief over Buffy's death, his wife's death, on the pages of a journal, and out of Spike's eyes.

If that meant that he would be cut to ribbons by the shards of his gaze from now until he was dust, so be it. That was better than the ache he felt leaking from the pages of William's journal.

"What do you mean?" Angel asked.

The eyes looking at him flashed amber, "I think you know what I mean, Angelus. The little girl, I've seen what's left of her and even though there isn't much, unlike you, I can use my brain. I know that girl was more than she seemed," Spike tilted his head and regarded his grandsire with barely contained disgust. His voice rumbled with the effort to keep his anger under control, "At least to me. And, I'm betting that you knew that, somehow. And that's why you rushed to 'identify' the poor thing and had her remains cremated," Angel was astonished at the agony he saw in Spike's face. The pain he saw ran deep. It seemed that it was an integral part of him now. Angel knew he had failed, because now he could finally see his own reflection. Angel could see the kind of pain he felt when Connor left, in Spike's eyes. "You wanted to hurt me?" Spike continued, "I didn't think it was possible," Spike could feel the void in his chest and the tears well up in anger. He was not going to give him the satisfaction of tears. The fingers of his left hand itched as he felt the stake become part of his hand as it pressed up against the only obstacle that stood between him and the girl he thought of as his daughter, the girl whose life he wished he could have been part of but now could only grieve, "You will tell me what you know, and why you're leaving dead birds on some expectant mummy's doorstep. Why? Is the little tot she's carrying a threat to you, somehow? I thought 'hero' types like you respected the life cycle, and the human race," Spike said as he pressed the stake a little further, and was rewarded for his efforts with a sharp hiss from Angelus, "Or so help me, I'll dust you," Spike grimaced, "And then, you and I can both put that pesky old prophesy to the test. What do you think?"

Angel winced at the tiny starburst of pain the point of Spike's stake made in the center of his chest and rasped out, "I'll tell you what I know. I swear," he hissed through the pain, "Just put the stake down."
***********************

OCTOBER 28, 2003

Angel knew that Buffy was still in the hospital recovering from the injuries that she'd received in the old distillery. He knew the kind of depravity that Drusilla was capable of, and he was amazed that Buffy was still alive, let alone healing as quickly as she seemed to be. Given what he'd seen of her injuries, six weeks was an amazing recovery time.

Spike hadn't left her side in all that time. There were times when he had to be reminded to take care of himself so that he could be there when Buffy needed him. And, even though the prospect of the two of them together still stung him in a way that was unimaginable, he had things he had to make amends for, so if Spike couldn't stand in the gap that the human race didn't even know existed between them and their constant destruction, then he would do his best to fill it.



An eerily familiar voice made his stomach clench. If he'd needed nourishment to thrive, his stomach would have spilled out at the sound of it, "Glad to here that someone's taking up the slack, Angel. Someone has to."

Angel looked and saw the one man he never wanted to see again, "Holland," he growled, "What are you doing here?"

The well-tailored, Brooks Brothers suit shrugged and the face smirked, "I'm neither here nor there, Angel. And, why are you so surprised to see me? I told you we'd be doing business again soon. I just wanted to give you a heads up for the next Apocalypse."

"Why would you want to do that? I thought the Home Office's wheels turned with the grease of plagues and pestilence. Why would you want me to know anything is coming? Doesn't that put a crimp in your bottom line?"

"It does," Holland assured, "But we're not in the business of wiping out the entire human race. It's not cost effective. Without them, the wheels grind to a halt."

"What do you want me to do?"

"A child will be born in early 2006. That can't be allowed to happen," Holland said as he scribbled a name on a business card, "If she is born, first the Slayers will die, and then the entire human race."

"You mean Buffy?"

"Yes. Buffy will die," Holland nodded, wincing, "slowly and painfully. I don't even want to think about what she'll go through. And, Buffy's death will send Spike into a tailspin he won't be able to recover from. I'm sure you would do whatever you could to spare him anymore pain."

"I would," Angel admitted.

"That's what I thought," Holland said as he handed the card to Angel, "Here is the name of the child's parents. Keep it in mind."
*****************

IN THE INTERREGNUM- HOME OFFICE

Holland knew that the Higher Ups would try to alert the Champion of what he was doing. But, if he crated enough confusion, it wouldn't matter if the Higher Ups handed the Champion a roadmap and blueprint, no one could make sense of it. At least, not until it was too late to stop.

Being omnipotent really helped him do his job more efficiently. He'd even made sure to take care of both variables. Chaos Theory was a beautiful thing. And with Lila and Persephone taking care of one Champion and the other mad as Ophelia, there was no way he could lose. After all, it would take someone with a little wit to realize that, when deciphering meaning, sometimes it is the mad who truly do know the truth. And, let's face it, the Slayer may be long on strength, but she comes up short when it comes to reasoning.

So, how could he lose?
*********************

SEPTEMBER 21, 2022

Dawn was suddenly grateful that Georgina had agreed to take care of Jonina for the night because she didn't think she would be able to explain this to her. The wail was as inhuman as anything on the Hellmouth.

They were all huddled outside the small bedroom of the idyllic New England home. He had brought the tiny family here when she had taken ill, to take care of her.

It was as far from the Hellmouth as he could get her.

The look in Willow's eyes as she reacted to the sounds of grief emanating from the room were nothing compared to the void that Dawn knew awaited her when, and if, she was brave enough to go into that room. Willow wanted to do what she could to comfort him, and started to make her way to the doorway when Dawn stepped in her way, "Willow, I'm not sure that's a good idea right now," she said, as she listened to the slowly rising tide of grief, "You never know what he could say or do," she nodded begging her to understand, "He may still blame you."

"I know," Willow sobbed, "And, I don't care. I deserve it."

The sound that Dawn heard coming from the room now was a sound she hadn't heard in twenty years, and it chilled her to the bone. That sound meant only one thing. It was over. Her sister was dead.

Dawn tried to close her ears to the sound and focus on Willow. It wasn't much, but she would take any port in the storm of grief that she was sure awaited her once she went into that room.

She didn't want to go into that room. She would have done anything to stay out of the Hell that was in that room. She couldn't bear seeing that vacant look in his eyes again. He had put all his hopes in her and now with her gone she wondered if he would be able to pull himself out, or if he would let himself drown again.

Dawn walked slowly into the darkened room. The haze of sorrow that hung in the air made it difficult to see, though she could make out the outline of Spike as he hovered near the head of the bed, "Spike, is there anything I can do?"

His voice was a strangled whisper, "Nothing to be done, Bit," the vortex of pain and grief that rose up to meet her nearly made her gasp, "She's dead. There's nothing left."

The pain she felt riveted her to the spot. It took all her effort to make the muscles of her throat work so that her voice could be heard over the lump of sadness that had settled in the pit of her stomach, "Yes, there is, Spike," her voice wavered, "There's you. There's me, and there's Joni."

His eyes narrowed, as if her name was painful to him, "Joni?" his eyes widened in recognition, "Joni? Where is she, Bit?" he stood up abruptly, his voice shaken, "Bit, tell me she didn't hear that. I didn't...oh God," his head was shaking in disbelief, his eyes beseeching her to understand, "Bit, I didn't mean for her to hear," Spike had crossed the little room with surprising speed, grasping Dawn's shoulders in a desperate embrace, "Tell me she didn't hear that. I couldn't do that to her."

Dawn could see that the idea of keeping Jonina insulated from her mother's death was the only thing that was keeping him tethered to this reality, "No, Spike, she didn't hear that," she said softly, "Joni's safe," at his questioning, frenzied look she finished with, "She's with George," she nodded, "Understand? She'll be back in the morning."

He looked back at the window, his voice seeming to come from very far away, "It's dark. She hates the dark. She needs a night light."

Dawn couldn't be sure he was talking about Joni, "She'll be all right," Dawn cooed, as she led Spike slowly out of the room, "She's your daughter. She'll be all right."

For the first time since she knew him, Spike truly felt like dead weight in her arms as she guided him out into the small hallway. Buffy really did seem to be his life force. And now that she was gone, Dawn didn't know if he'd ever be the same again.

As they reached the threshold Willow stepped into their path. Dawn silently prayed that she would just keep her mouth shut and leave him alone. She hoped that Willow would know enough about Spike by now to just let him pick up the pieces at his own pace. Once he could put the pieces back, in some kind of order, then he'd approach her. Willow just needed to give Spike time to lick his wounds. She just needed to back off. But, Dawn knew, in her heart, that this was something Willow still needed to learn.

"Spike, I'm so sorry," she sobbed, "I never, never thought that this would happen," the tears were flowing down her face, "I'm so sorry. If there's anything I can do..."

Dawn winced as the demon he seldom let come to the fore revealed itself, as if it were protecting the injured part of itself from a threat, "Why is the witch weeping?" he growled, "Your job is finally done. She finally succumbed," his head tilted in grim contemplation of the instrument of his destruction. Amber eyes swam as they stared at her, "I admire your prowess, witch," he spat, "I've known the lifeblood of two Slayers," his throat and lips quivered. It was a thing that Dawn didn't think she'd ever see. A demon in the throws of sorrow, "And shared the life of one. But you," he pointed a shaking finger at her, "you've taken the lives of hundreds! How does it feel, witch, to have your hands drenched in their blood?"

Willow shrank under his fiery glare, "Spike, please. I want to help."

His jaw twitched, "You wish to help me, do you, witch?"

She nodded.

Spike placed his hand in the center of his chest and nodded, "You want to help me, Red?" his face fixed itself into a mask of agony, "Find a stake and do it, Red. It's hollow."

Willow shook her head in horror at what he was asking, "No!" she gasped, "What about Joni?"

"Please, Red, I'm empty without her. You've already killed me. Just finish the job," he choked down a sob as he begged for release from torment, "Please?"

Willow was stunned into silence as Dawn gently guided him past her, "Come on, Spike," she whispered, "You don't know what you're saying. Let's get some rest."
*******************

MAY 19, 2003

"I don't mind telling you I don't like it, Slayer. It's just too risky. Red seems in control, I know, but something like this could cause ripples for eons. I don't like it. There's only supposed to be one Slayer. And, that's you."

Buffy couldn't read his face because of the shadows that played in the room. She couldn't tell if he was saying this because he doubted her, or Willow, or the both of them. Or, he could be saying this because he didn't want to see her hurt, or worse, "Don't think I can do it, Spike? Why didn't you say something in front of the others?"

He rolled his eyes and threw his head back in frustration, "And create dissention in the ranks?" Spike shook his head, "No thanks. You've got Rona for that. It's a good plan, Slayer. It'll work," he lowered his eyes, "I just don't want it to. I've got a bad feeling. And, I don't want to risk you," he turned the amulet over in his hand, "This little bauble could do the job, Love, with no risk to you or the little girls."

Buffy stepped closer to the cot, "No, Spike. I don't know what that thing could do," she swallowed to loosen the knot in her throat, "It could kill you, Spike."

Spike smirked, "Thanks for the concern, Slayer. But in case you've forgotten, I'm dead already."

"That's not what I mean, Spike. And I think you know that."

"I know," Spike said, "But I need to do this. I made a promise."

"Ditto," Buffy said.
***********************

MAY 20 2003

Willow felt the power of the spell surging through her. Somehow she felt time vibrate and shatter; the shards escaped her grasp before she could gain control of them.

Too late, the reality of what was happening below her, to Spike, was opened to her. Too late, Willow knew that she'd made a grave mistake, "Oh my Goddess," she gasped.
**********************************

APRIL 21, 2005

Even though, unlike Angel, Spike knew better than to take what Holland said at face value, all this talk of death, her death, was bringing him closer to his Grandsire's temperament. He knew he could trust one thing, and one thing only, to bring him out of the quicksand he was in danger of sinking down into. He trusted his eyes.

He rushed through the door of the dojo; saw Buffy standing there, alive. She was all lit up with an inner light that made her glow with the soft pink light of life around her. It was so beautiful he just had to be part of it. He crossed the distance between them with large, confident strides and he swept her up in his wake and carried her to their upstairs apartment.

Caught of guard by his impulsive actions, Buffy whooped in surprise, "Spike, what are you doing?"

He kissed her, and said, with a devilish smirk, "If I need to draw up a schematic, Love, I'm doing it wrong."

"Oh," she giggled.


APRIL 21, 2005

Spike parked the car in its usual spot. He wasn't going to go in just yet, not when the tremors were still shaking him. Angelus's black and white way of seeing the world was a dangerous thing. And, the small journal he was holding proved it could also be deadly.

At first Spike assumed that the notebook was one of Holland's tricks. That was until what Angelus said had the ring of truth in it. He wasn't sure why, but a strange sense of déjà vu seemed to thicken the air around him the longer Angel talked. He'd asked for the notes in an attempt to shake his disquiet.

The notes had the opposite effect. Reading the account of Buffy's death was vivid enough to transport him through time and helped him experience the sights and sounds and scents of it. And, the fact that Spike recognized the penmanship as his own only strengthened his resolve.

Angelus might have a fatalistic worldview, but as far as he was concerned nothing was set in stone. Time was elastic and changeable. As far as he was concerned this was a warning that Jonina Irene Dustin, whoever she was, and whomever she would still become, sacrificed herself to bring to him.

Spike took the Zippo that had served as Buffy's anchor during their lost year, and sparked the flame. As he watched the orange-red light dance against the white of the pages, turning the edges black and curling them into nothing, he sent her silent thanks.

Something inside of him seemed to jump. Suddenly his silent thanks seemed woefully inadequate, and he felt he had to give voice to the peace that seemed to wash over him, "Thank you, Dove, so much. I promise, if you need protecting, if you need anything, I'm the one to come to. Now, and forever."
************************

IN THE INTERREGNUM

Buffy had waited so long for this. Even though there was no such thing as time here, it seemed like years since she had seen the soft brown curls that framed the angles of his face.

It had been so long that she couldn't wait to be in his arms again, as he slowly crossed the distance between them, she rushed up to meet him and was enclosed in his strong embrace. She felt her feet float up, as he spun her in wide, happy circles. She didn't want it to stop, and now that he was back with her again, Buffy knew it never would.

"I missed you, Spike," she said, choking back the tears, "I never wanted you to leave. I understand why you did what you did, now. But I didn't then," she looked at the infinite patience shining in his eyes as he looked at her, "Joni said that's what was vexing you when you first came back. I wish I'd paid more attention to you. Maybe then, I could have spared you some pain."

As he listened to her cry, he whispered soothing words to her, "Hush, Love. We've got them back on track now," he smiled at the beautiful emerald glow of love in her eyes, "And as long as Angel doesn't fall for Holland's web of half-truths," he swallowed as the tears of reunion overwhelmed him and he gripped her tighter, "I don't ever want to leave you again."

"I did what I could," Buffy bit her lip, "to help, you know?"

Spike nodded, "I know. Without you, and Jonina the First really would have driven him mad. Toward the end he would have given up," he bowed his head, remembering the pain he'd been through, "I know I nearly did. I do wish you would have come around sooner though, but it's not your fault you were so pigheaded back then."

"Hey, can I help if I think in linear terms? I'm not the one who spent a century taking tea with Miss Edith."

"How are they, by the way?" Spike asked.

Buffy smiled, "All three of them are blissfully happy. Mother has her son again, and he finally has the perfect mate."

"That's good to know," he said, "Now where is the little minx who caused all this upheaval in the first place?"

"You mean Cordy? She's being punished for setting this all in motion," Buffy winced, "I don't even want to think about what she's going through."

Pain flashed across Spike's face, briefly, "I know something of it. But she's not the only piece of that puzzle, and you and I both know that. Hopefully we have lessoned the body count. Actually, I was referring to Joni."

"Right here, Daddy," Joni appeared, looking sheepish, "Are you mad at me?"

"Mad? No!" Spike opened his arms and took his daughter into his chest. The peace he felt at having the kind of Heaven he'd always read about, but never thought he could have, was immeasurable. All of his family was here for him to hold. And he would hold them, forever, "How could you think that," he sighed into her hair. He didn't know how it was possible, but even here she smelled of a mixture of talc and cinnamon, "How could I be mad at you for doing something that your dear old Dad would have done. I always taught you to think outside the box. Your Mum did, too. Now if I can only teach Angel to think the same way too."

"You really think Angel will listen to you?"

"He'd bloody well better. Unless he wants to count my daughter, the Slayer, as an enemy."
**********************************

NOVEMBER 1, 2030

Angel walked slowly between the silent rows of stone. A vampire should feel at home in a place like this, but he didn't. Maybe it was because the cluster of stones he was headed for now, contained names of people he knew.

The newest stone could be found under a dusting of snow. That was surprising considering the October they'd just been through here in New England. One of the worst in all recorded history, or so the newspaper touted. They said it was one of the earliest snows they'd had here in a long time.

To Angel, it just seemed typical. He knelt in front of the stone. He knew he should say something, but what could he say? What do you say to someone when he'd entrusted you with his life, his only child, and she'd been missing for over a year?

"Well, where does the time go?" a confident voice asked, "It seems like we were just here a moment ago."

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he had to use all his faculties to keep his demon at bay. He stared into the stone grey eyes, "I told you to leave me alone, Holland."

"Yes, but fortunately, I answer to a...different authority. Don't be so glum though. This place used to be full of...residents," he spread his arms wide, indicating the whole of the graveyard, "Now, there's space to spare. You should be glad."

"What are you talking about?" Angel balked, turning his attention back to the stone, "Now, if you don't mind, I'm here to make amends," his eyes went down in shame, "If I can."

"Oh, that's right," Holland sighed, "You don't know," he bit his lip in confusion and turned to look at something behind him, then turned back to look at Angel, "Or is it that you don't remember? I can never keep it straight," he shrugged his shoulders, "Oh well, that's life. Or in your case, not so much."

"Leave!"

"So be it," he said as he disappeared.

He contemplated what he would say and sighed, feeling the weight on his shoulders, "Spike, ever since you died, things have gotten bad, really bad. And, I don't know how to fix it," he felt the pressure of tears building up behind his eyes, "Now Jonina's gone, and I don't know what to do. Spike, you were always better with words," the tears spilled out and his voice broke under the weight of his failure, "What do I say to her? I used to know, but I don't know anymore. I don't know anything."
****************************

APRIL 21, 2005

Buffy stretched her body out slowly, enjoying the smooth coolness of the sheets beneath her. The pleasing coolness and the warmth of love spreading over her, had her grinning from ear to ear, "Not that I'm complaining, but tell me one thing, "Spike."

Spike turned his head and looked at her with an impish glow in his eyes, "What would that be, Love?"

The look on his face was so open that Buffy knew she could ask him anything and she knew she'd get an honest answer. As if Spike were capable of anything else, "How is it that you make me feel like I'm the only person that matters," she suddenly became shy and felt her cheeks start to flush, "Why is it that with you I feel like I'm the only person in the world?"

The girlish blush that crept up her face sent a ping of joy sounding through him. She looked so lovely he had to reach out to touch her skin. He brushed the fingers of one hand lightly against her cheek, and let out a sigh of contentment as he felt her body hunger for his touch, "That's simple, Love," he said slowly, so that she could take in his meaning, "The reason you feel that is because that is what you are," Spike watched as Buffy's eyes widened as the depth of his meaning began to sink in, and her eyes became moist, "To me," he cleared his throat, suddenly overcome with emotion that made his voice gruff, "you are my world."

The only thing Buffy could think to do was kiss him, "Oh, Spike, I love you."
****************

Buffy could taste the sadness in his kiss and she could see it on his face, "Hey, why are you so sad? I mean, I know you're not used to me complementing you, but I do love you," she held up her left hand, admiring the way the silver glinted in the dim light, "And, I'm wearing the jewelry to prove it," she saw the haunted look in his eyes and gasped. Her eyes misted over with the tears he couldn't, or wouldn't shed. Her voice carried the weight of the fear she just realized he felt, and she was shook to her core with it. Buffy needed to comfort him, needed to touch him to help him know that she was his, "Spike," she asked, touching his face with the knuckles of her hand, and feeling her skin vibrate with the tide of emotion that was surging through him, "What did Angel tell you?" her eyes widened, "I've never seen you like this."

He sighed and dropped his chin, not wanting to see what he felt reflected in her eyes, "It's not what he said, Love. It's the secrets he kept," he shook his head and got up from his place on the bed and reached for his robe, which was lying on the bedroom floor, having been discarded from the bed in favor of Buffy's warmth. His fingers shaking slightly as he tied his robe closed, "I never told you what Pavaine did to me, Love. I thought it was all just smoke and mirrors," he padded across the room, stopping to run his hand along the edge of the thick draperies that covered the widow and shielded him from the sun's deadly rays. Buffy held her breath in horror as she watched the muscles of his back tense in determination, and his fingers closed around the fabric. Then she exhaled a prayer of thanks as she watched the fight go out of him again. He kept his back to her, and she had to crawl off of the bed and stand beside him with her hand on his arm and her head on his shoulder before he would continue. To Buffy it seemed almost as if he'd forgotten she was even with him. His voice seemed so small, "But after what Angel told me," the pain she saw in his eyes, even in the half-light of the room, made him look a thousand years old, "I think what he showed me may have been true, Buffy," his tears shown as glistening streaks in the shadows of the room.

"What did he show you, Spike?"

Unneeded breath shuddered through him as he relived his own private Hell, "Pain. Death," he looked at her with frightened eyes, "There were thousands of them Buffy. All of them were in pain. I still shook it off. I knew it was a trick, until I saw you."

"Me?" she whispered.

He nodded, "You were feverish, in pain. But, you didn't move a muscle. You couldn't, the pain was too much for you. And, there was so much blood. So much it just covered you like lace...like some macabre sort of... Oh God," he sobbed, "I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear him apart for showing me that, Buffy. And I did. If I could have, I would have killed him all over again. I knew I couldn't save you," he sobbed, "I couldn't even touch you. But I could save Fred," he whispered, "She died anyway."

Buffy's face hardened into a mask of determination as she held his hands and gently walked backward across the room, bringing Spike slowly along with her, "All right, Spike," she smiled, "A year with Angel was not good for you," her eyes gave a sweeping glance of the room, "I mean, look at you, all darkness and brooding," she reached for his neck pulling him down to kiss her. She had to pull him out of himself or she would lose him, "Now, in case you've forgotten, there is a couple downstairs, and a tiny person, who is waiting for you to make the world safe again."

Spike's voice was filled with apprehension, "Think you might have the wrong vamp there, Love."

"No, I don't," she said tenderly, pulling him along until her back was against the closed door. Still holding his hands lightly in hers, she ran her thumbs over his skin, "Now, close your eyes."

He closed his eyes and sighed, "Buffy..."

"That's good, you're half way there. Stop talking."

"Love, what?" he asked, in confusion. She was beautiful, there was no denying that, but sometimes her flight of thought was hard to keep up with.

She nodded in sympathy, "I know it's hard, especially for you. But, do it anyway, for me. Stop talking."

He nodded, "Haven't we done this before?"

She nodded her head, her eyes glinted with humor, "Yes," she murmured, "we have. But, I think you need it now, 'Grasshopper.' Now, listen close. Stay quiet for a minute, then tell me what you hear."

Spike closed his eyes and listened to the sounds that no one else could hear. He heard the alveoli in her lungs fill and empty as her body delivered the oxygen her body needed. He listened to the muscles of her ribcage expand and contract as the lungs filled and deflated. The rhythms of her blood as it rushed through her became a symphony to him.

Under that was the quiet woodwind concerto of the bloodstreams of their guests. People who put their trust in him, these people did trust him even without knowing anything about him.

But that was wrong. The woman did know who he was. He could sense that Talitha Sands was a Slayer. She knew who he was, what he was and she knew what it was he had done. She knew all of it, and she still trusted him to protect the life that was inside of her.

Spike tried to zero in on the small life force inside of her. The prospect of protecting it was daunting, but he found himself wanting to take it on. In fact, Spike felt he needed to. Given what he had been told, if it was true, the idea of protecting a pure, innocent soul from that Hell was fast becoming his driving force.

He slowly tuned out the faint background noise of the others and focused again on the strong, steady beat of Buffy's heart. It was so strong and steady, so confident in her own skin. So confident in him; Buffy told him that it was his strength that had made her strong when she needed to be. She had said that it was his strength that had held her up even when she didn't know that he was in the world to hold her.

He just hoped that he could keep his footing atop the pedestal she seemed to be holding him to, "I here you. And, I here them, too."

"There're alive, right?" she whispered.

Spike blinked. He thought that much was very obvious, "Yeah, Love, very much so."

Buffy wanted to kiss the perplexed look off of his face, "Spike," she said, "They're alive because of you. I'm alive because of you."

Spike shook his head, wanting to say something in protest, but she cut him off, "...It's true. You may not believe it, but it is true," her eyes went down in thought, "Others," she smirked, knowing that the mention of her past would anger him, "who shall remain nameless," her eyes lit up with mirth at the slight rumble she heard sounding in his chest, "have tried. But you," her hand rested on his chest, and he hissed because of the heat he felt, "you are, the one, the only, accept no substitutes, Champion. And that baby," she asked, "She doesn't know who you are, or what you've done. She only knows 'now.' And now, she trusts you."

"She?" Spike asked.

Buffy shrugged, "Call it a hunch. She trusts you to protect her from the boogiemen, big and small. Angel's been put in his place, at least for now. If Angel thinks something else is coming, then we have to make sure that it doesn't touch her. You have to make sure of that. And, I know you can do it."

"I hope you know what you're asking, Love," he heaved a sigh and closed his eyes against the flashes, in his head, of the horrors he had seen when he was at Pavaine's mercy, "If even a speck of what Pavaine showed me comes to pass," he swallowed the stone of sorrow that lodged in his throat. He felt it settle somewhere near his inert heart and tried to will away the wetness that was in danger of seeping out of his eyes at the thought of Buffy experiencing any pain at all, "Love, I don't want to lose you."

Buffy's own voice seemed older, somehow, even to her own ears, "Nor I you," she said, sighing, "That's why we have to do what we can to stop it."

NOVEMBER 1, 2030

All Spike had really wanted to do was protect his family, which at the time consisted of only Buffy and Dawn. Angel understood the impulse. And unfortunately, so did Holland Manners. Holland Manners was perhaps the only one who truly understood his impulse to hold on to things with an iron fist. It was only now, after he'd lost everything, and everyone who ever held any meaning for him, that Angel understood that if you wanted to hold those you loved close, you couldn't use an iron fist. If you did, the fine crystal that you loved was often crushed to bits of ground glass that would end up cutting the fist that held it, to ribbons.

Watching that baby grow inside that woman made him ache. What hurt even worse was watching Spike and Buffy bonding with the child. And, he had already sacrificed so much to keep Connor safe. In an existence full of killing innocents, some, like Winifred Burkle, were killed to satisfy a higher purpose. Or so he thought, at the time.

He couldn't explain his reasons then because no one would have understood. And he certainly couldn't justify them now. Not to him, and defiantly not to her.

All she knew now was grief. And to her, he was the reason for that grief.

He contemplated what he would say. Taking an unneeded breath, he started with the basics, "Well, here I am again, although I'm really not sure why. I tried to explain things to Joni and," he couldn't even bring himself to speak her name, "her. Joni was so angry," he shook his head in astonishment, smiling a little at the person who had seemed to flash in her eyes, just briefly, "So much like you," he mused, "for an instant, I could have sworn her face changed. And, her head tilted in just that way. She saw it too. I heard her gasp. Joni took that cigarette lighter of yours, lit the flame," Angel chuckled, "Do you know, I think she really might have used it. She told me that if I ever came near her, or her mother, again, I'd know what her Daddy felt in that alley. She asked me what I thought would have happened if you had taken my advice. I told her I didn't know."

And he really didn't.

He still remembered the conversation very well, even all these years later:
***************************************

APRIL 21, 2005

"Spike, it's really not a good idea to bond with it."

" 'It?' 'It' is a child. An innocent. Why wouldn't I?"

Angel sighed, "Because it will die. They all will, eventually," his eyes became hooded in shame, "Even Buffy."

"I know that," Spike ground out, hurt, "and I hope she's wrinkled and old and," his head tilted as he smirked, "still kicking your ass, Peaches."

"If it's born, Spike. If it's allowed to live, Buffy will die. And she'll die sooner rather than later."

Spike shook his head as if he were witnessing the most pathetic sight he'd ever seen, "You. How did you ever survive this long? Or, maybe you're the ghost, rattling around this wide, wonderful world, in touch with nothing and no one? Is that how it was so easy to go from crusader to megalomaniac in one short year?"

"You know," Angel said, "I think I've heard this argument before."

Spike laughed low in his throat, "Been down this road before, have we?" he bit the inside of his cheek in thought, his eyes floating to the ceiling, "Slow on the uptake then, are you? Maybe you should have listened. Maybe then you wouldn't be asking me to stand by and watch you do something that, only a few years ago, the 'Champion' would have waded neck deep into holy water to prevent," he exhaled in frustration, hissing through his teeth, "Jesus Christ, Angel! I may have hated your self-righteous attitude, Angelus, but I respected the effort. I could, and still can, respect a worthy adversary. But you're not, anymore. Now, you're just an enemy," Spike picked up the small journal as he turned to leave, "Even without the soul that you seem to prize so highly, I pity you. But," he warned, "If you go near that child, I will kill you. Fair warning, Angelus."
**********************************

Yes, he remembered that conversation very well. The fire in his eyes was something Angel did not want to see extinguished, and he knew that if Buffy died, all the people that he knew Spike would help would lose a Champion. Even if Holland hadn't told him what Buffy's death would do to him, Angel knew.

Spike was a visceral creature. Everything he experienced he internalized. Everything he went through became a part of him. This tendency made him good in a fight, but he usually never saw the forest for the trees. He never saw the big picture.

And although Angel would never say so out loud, the big picture was that Spike was the only thing left that he loved. He wasn't going to see him hurt.

He looked askance at the tombstone, its carved lettering seemingly mocking him, "I know. I know I should have listened to you. My attempts at saving you from the kind of pain I'd been through only bonded the two of you to her tighter. Until it became impossible for you, or Buffy to do what had to be done, and because of that you only saw one way out. That way, it did save her," Angel nodded slightly, as if the wind had whispered to him how obvious his statement had been, "Which I know was what you wanted. It's what I wanted too. Your unconventional thinking did save quite a few Slayers, Buffy included. But I forgot to tell them about the Shanshu. So, when Buffy lost her husband, and Jonina lost her Daddy? Well, as you can imagine, they were very angry when they found out I knew about this, and didn't tell them. And since you weren't around to punch in the nose, they took it out on me, and rightly so," he choked back a sob, "They weren't the only ones who lost something when you died, you know, Spike. You helped me save one son. But I lost someone I thought of as a son," he smiled wryly, "Or as close to one as I want to admit. I lost you."
******************************

OCTOBER 13, 2005

George picked up the phone, "Synergy Dojo, may I help you? We're running a pre-Halloween sale this week. Buy six lessons, get the seventh one free of charge," her eyes squinted in surprise and she switched to her hands free headset, and moved her wheelchair lightning fast in an effort to catch their attention, "Angel, why are you calling here? What?" she tore the headset off of her head, in one brutal swipe, and screamed, "Spike!! Where is David?"

The terror in her voice had him rushing through the maze of workout rooms to the front desk, "What is it?"

She pointed to her discarded headset, "That was Angel. Don't ask me how he knew, but he was calling from the hospital. David...he was mugged...Stabbed. He's dead."

"What?" came Talitha's anguished cry.

In the blink of an eye Spike was behind the wheel of the Desoto, calling out to Buffy and Talitha as he rushed to the car, "Talitha, stay here. I'll check it out. Buffy, use your stake if you need to. I'll call you when I know anything!" with that, the car sped off in the direction of the hospital.
************************

Author's Note: I decided to take pity on my readers and give them a peek at the ending. Also, in Victorian times, things wer often said with flowers. The marigold was a symbol for grief. Please review;-)

NOVEMBER 1, 2030

The groundskeeper of this particular cemetery liked his job very much. When it was hot, in the summertime, he kept the grass above his charges from turning dry and brown from the heat. In the fall, he kept the leaves from marring the landscape. And, in the winter he took special care to brush the snow from the stones.

He took care of them all, but for some reason there was one grave, in particular, that drew his attention more than most. Perhaps it was because, in the sea of roses and lilies that he gathered nightly, this one instead was always adorned with a bright bouquet of orange marigolds. They reminded him of the sun, and perhaps that was why, while going on his nightly rounds, William Alistair Dustin received his special care.

Of course, in order to take proper care of that one, he had to work later than was expected, because conditions of his employment here required that he remain unseen by visitors. He understood that. He knew that it was sometimes disquieting for loved ones to know that their dearly departed had been disturbed in any way.

Even if the people who visited them here knew, in their heart of hearts, that someone was taking care of the daily minutia, it was still a difficult thing to actually see a stranger roaming around a loved one's resting place. So, he remained unseen, although with "Marigolds" that was difficult.

That one had visitors well into the wee hours of the morning.

As his wristwatch told him it was three a.m., he was grateful for the small cottage that he had on the grounds. He liked the arrangement; keep the cemetery neat and tidy, in exchange for room and board. And the neighbors were quiet, which suited him just fine.

He knelt and picked up the bundle of blooms from the ground, and smiled, "Well William, I see the wife's been by again. She's a different one, isn't she? I bet you already knew that, though," he looked down at the flowers in his hand, his head tilted in thought, "There's something about these flowers. Something specific. She leaves them every day, and it's always the same. Marigolds are so different, after rows and rows of roses. Don't get me wrong, roses are beautiful, but the marigolds are so refreshing. Almost like she's giving you a bunch of sunshine every day. It's like she knows you miss it."
*****************************

Buffy Anne Dustin hated this. She hated walking through cemeteries now, she hated it more now than when she was an active Slayer, and she'd hated it so much back then that she didn't think she could hate it more. At least back then there was a chance of spotting him lurking somewhere close. Now though, she knew all too well were to find him, and she hated it so much.

She was so young then, so much younger than she was now.

And to think, it'd only been two years. No not even that long. It had been six hundred and ninety-eight days, and nights, since he'd died. And, each night was just as fresh, just as raw, as the first one had been.

Buffy approached the gravesite with an ache in her heart. Spike had always been her rock. When she'd first gotten sick, and her world became a haze of pain and needles and antiseptic, he'd stayed with her, even though his eyes told her how frightened he really was, he still stayed with her.

The only thing that gave him any focus outside of her was taking care of Jonina. Willow had told her that their daughter had been the only thing that kept him from sinking into madness when she'd taken ill.

They had seen what the virus could do to a Slayer, and how quickly it took hold. She and Spike had been working on isolating it almost from the moment Jonina was born.

She remembered that Spike took it hard each time a Slayer was stricken with the virus they called "Cassandra's Lace." He seemed to take the virus's appearance as a personal affront to him. And when Joni started showing signs of being a Slayer, nothing else seemed to matter to him more than finding the answer to the puzzle. He seemed driven; haunted by something he wouldn't share.

Then, despite her best efforts to conceal them, she started showing symptoms. She shrugged them off at first, but there came a time when even she could no longer deny what was happening to her. She was dying, and they both knew it. They'd both seen it happen to other Slayers, and now, it was happening to her.

She had accepted it. But, Spike had not. Because of his stubborn refusal to accept their world the way it was, she was the one standing in a graveyard, putting flowers on a grave she never really thought she would ever see. Because of him, Joni was living in a world that once again contained an army of Slayers, albeit a small one, who were now beginning to forget what peril they had been in just a few short years ago.

And she was standing here. That fact alone should have brought her happiness, but it didn't. And the reason it didn't is because, once again, he'd sacrificed himself to save her.

Buffy looked at the stone that bore his name, and tried it out on her tongue. It had been so long since she had been able to stand here. Being here, looking at his name, hurt her in a place she couldn't name. It evoked a pain that she couldn't give voice to. So when she heard her voice sounding like a thimble, small and tin-like in her ear, saying his name aloud, it didn't seem real at all.

She read the stone aloud. It was the eulogy she knew he deserved, but never received, at least not from her. It hurt too much to believe that he was gone, "William Alistair Dustin, beloved husband, father, friend, and champion. Departed, but not forgotten, December 2, 2027," Buffy kissed her fingers and pressed them to the letters of his name, "Who is it that takes care of you now? Where are you? I tried to find you, you know," Buffy felt her lip tremble and tasted the salt water as it slid down her face to her lips, "Just to know where you are. Joni and I miss you so much," her face twisted in sadness and anger. She knew her thoughts were disjointed, but she had so much loss in her right now, that she had to give it an outlet, "Willow said you weren't in Hell, and that's good," she sniffed and wiped her eyes, "But she said you weren't in Heaven either. It didn't make sense. I mean vampires don't die of viruses! They just don't. Okay, there was that time that Angel got sick because of that poison, but I saved him. But when you got sick, you wouldn't let me save you. Why?" she sobbed, "When you were feverish and delirious," she bowed her head, reliving the pain of her loss, "while you could still talk, you kept talking about a trade, some kind of bargain. I know you were in pain. I know it. But you never complained, not once. And then Angel tells me about some kind of prophecy. I tell you, Spike, I was so angry, I could have staked him. Joni nearly did. And now, I come here, every day, just in the hope that, some way you'd find me," Buffy left her bouquet for him, "I know it's silly. But, I wish you were here," she said as she left the graveyard.
************************
IN THE INTERREGNUM

Spike nearly jumped for joy, "I thought you'd never ask, Love."

OCTOBER 13, 2005

As Spike raced toward the hospital, the nightmares came rushing back, leaving painful, bright phosphorescent trails in their wake.

The echo of her tiny heartbeat filled his head. Over the months, Talitha and Buffy and he had bounded. Maybe that was because they all shared something that David Sands couldn't understand. And maybe that was the reason David never trusted him. He could relate. But he was trying to protect the child. She was important, and by extension, so was he. All that David could see was another man moving in on his girls.

Oh, how he could relate.

And because David Sands didn't trust him, he never followed his advice, no matter how well founded. Because of that, he never listened to his warnings about going out alone at night. Spike had tried to assure him that his cautions were in no way an indictment on his manhood. If he loved his wife and child he would keep himself safe.

But, that advice seemed to fall on deaf ears. Now he was hoping that what Angel had told Georgina wasn't true, because if it were then he would have to inform the widow, and the stress could be dangerous for both of them. He already knew that, for a Slayer, Talitha had a delicate constitution. There was something off about her scent. Perhaps it was her impending motherhood that he was sensing.

Spike hoped that he was overreacting, but somehow he knew he wasn't. He hoped that David hadn't been killed, and he hoped that Angelus wasn't responsible, but Spike knew he was.

As he pulled in front of the hospital, Spike was grateful that the sun set early in October, this way he wouldn't have to worry about his "allergy," as Buffy liked to call it, while in polite company. But, if it came down to that little baby's well being, he wouldn't have cared if it were high noon on the hottest day of the year, he was going to find Angelus.

Spike strode quickly through the sliding glass doors, briefly glancing at the volunteers, in their smocks, who sat at the front desk. He could sense Angelus the second he walked in the doors, so there was no need to waste time asking questions of people who didn't understand what went on right under their noses. Besides, Spike was fairly certain that his purposeful steps and baleful countenance made anyone who might have attempted to slow him down, allow him a wide berth.

Spike headed straight to the small room that served as the hospital chapel, but then thought better of it. Angelus could wait. He had to make a stop at the morgue.
***********************

Heather wanted to be a doctor. But everyone had to start somewhere, and for her the starting point was working the evening shift in the County Hospital's morgue.

Most people her age wouldn't take this job. But she didn't mind. It was quiet and no one bothered her. So when someone who was quite obviously not a hospital employee appeared, it was a red-letter day.

"Miss," he said, "I know this normally isn't permitted," Spike lowered his lashes bashfully and said, "but, you see, I was hoping to pay my last respects to my cousin. I just got the news, and I can't quite believe it," he choked, "Was hoping it wasn't true. Do you have someone by the name of David Sands here?"

Heather wasn't sure why, but there was something in his eyes that made her trust him, "I really shouldn't even let you be here," she said, "I should be calling security. But," her eyes drifted sideways in thought, "I'm about to go on my coffee break. I'll be back in ten minutes," she left the clipboard with the manifest on her desk while getting up to go to the break room, "If you're still here when I get back," she nodded as their eyes met, "I'll have to call security,"

"Understood," Spike said.

The manifest said that David Sands was in drawer number three. He quickly strode over and opened it, reverently pulling back the sheet that covered the body. He closed his eyes in shock and frustration as he peered down into the unnaturally serene face of David Sands.

"Oh, no," he breathed.
**********************

Holland admired the small room. Even though the room was not exposed to natural light, it was still illuminated in soft muted colors due to the beautifully painted heavy glass windows.

He was very comfortable here. He knew that places like this were often incubators for troubled souls.

The hunched figure casting a long shadow in the corner was a case in point. Holland quietly slid in beside him, "Honestly Angel, I don't know why you chose to hide here. I mean," his eyes glanced up to admire the prisms of light that traced ribbons across the room, "places like this can be real bonanzas for the Home Office. They're like battlefields," he shrugged, "This is the one place were the Home Office and the Higher Ups tend to meet, and more often then not, this is where they clash. So, why do you hide here, when you knew I'd find you?"

In this place of light, his face was cast in shadow and his voice was heavy with fatigue, "I have nowhere else to be. This is the one place where I know where I stand. And, I need that, even if I'm not welcome here. At least here, things aren't so grey," Angel sighed, "At least here, things make sense."

"I understand," Holland said, "You know he'll think that you had something to do with this, don't you?"

Angel heaved a sigh, "I'm almost counting on it," his brows creased with the stress he was feeling, "Spike is bound and determined to see this thing through no matter what I say. And I don't think that I can stand by and watch him disintegrate," his voice seemed very old, "He's going to learn that a champion can't be everywhere at once. He'll learn that if you bond with them, it only hurts more when you realize that you can't save them. It's better that he learn that now, before he bonds with that child."

Holland smiled wistfully, "Spike is a rambunctious youngster, isn't he? It really is remarkable how he never saw the glass as half empty. With him, it's always half full," he nodded his head in admiration, "I really have to hand it to him. He really is a plucky sort, isn't he?"

Angel shook his head in resignation, "And when he loses everything that's important to him? When the sandcastles he builds are crushed by the waters of grief, what then?"

"My," Holland was surprised, "waxing poetic, and about Spike? He would be proud."

"I don't want him to be like me. But, in order to save him from," his shoulders sagged as he leaned forward, "becoming me I have to make sure something he already loves ceases to exist. If I do what I know I have to, Spike eats himself away with anger. If I don't do this, he falls deeper and deeper in love with Buffy, if that's even possible, and becomes an instrument of humanity's destruction because of his grief and inaction."

Holland nodded in commiseration, "Welcome to the bog that the ethereal dwell in. Believe me, where I am, where the Higher Ups are, there is never a dull moment. It's like waiting on line at the Baskin Robins. The menu board is full of choices and we're all waiting to see what the flavor of the moment is, literally. And, it's all up to you and your choices. It's like dominos down here," Angel was surprised at the exasperated tone in Holland's voice. It was almost as if he actually cared how things came out down here, "One choice impacts another. And we can't tell any of you which one will cause what outcome. It really is up to the people who live down here to make it better. Or to leave it be, that is up to you."
*******************

IN THE INTERREGNUM

Joyce addressed the Spirit with respect, "Yes, they are interesting, aren't they? They're diamonds in the rough. But, I tried to tell you that."

"You did, child. It seems that we may have to reevaluate his status in light of this new development," the Spirit gently chastised her, "Although, we still disapprove of your methods."

She shrugged, "What can I say, I take after my son-in-law."

Jubilant pearls of laughter that were closely followed by Joyce being swept off of her feet by a very excited Spike, "Mum," interrupted the dialog between the beings, " What did you do? I still can't believe it! How did you do it? They told me, but I didn't want to believe it."

Joyce hugged him back, "Believe it. This is the place of miracles, didn't they tell you?" she smiled slyly at him, "Holland is just a gnat in the ointment. Up here, we take up for the underdog, and here you have more of us pulling for you than you know."

Joyce smiled as she heard him squeak, "Really?"

She nodded, reveling in how boyish he was, "Yep. With all due respect to that poof of a Grandsire, there are countless legions of angels in your corner, Spike. Ones you don't even know about. That's why Wolfram and Hart wanted to keep you under their thumb. They were afraid of what you would do if you weren't watched. They still are."

"Poof?" his eyes sparkled with mirth, "Joyce, I love you."
*************************************

Spike quietly slipped into the hospital chapel and found Angel sitting in a corner, "Keeping in mind where we are, Angelus, I will try to keep this simple," Angel looked up to see amber eyes staring back at him, "I know what you told George. I'm here to make certain that you had nothing to do with it."

"Have you been to the morgue?"

"Yes," he hissed, "and if I find out you had anything to do with it, we will have problems. You had better hope that the news does not send mother and baby into a shock that could endanger the baby," his head pivoted menacingly, "Are we clear?"

Angel nodded.
*******************

On the ride back to the dojo, Spike wondered what he would say to her. Over the months, Talitha had opened up to him. He knew all her hopes and fears. She even made sure that he and Buffy were made the tot's legal guardians should something untoward happen to her or her husband, effectively naming Buffy and him the baby's parents.

The weight of the news bowed his shoulders, as he met Buffy at the door. He didn't even have to open his mouth. She knew. It screamed through his eyes.

His shock was mirrored in Buffy's slack-jawed expression and her whispered, "Oh no," as she grasped him tightly, giving Spike the strength he would need to tell Talitha that she was a widow now, "I'll try and prepare her, Spike. Are you all right?"

"No," he confessed. He didn't know if he would ever be all right again.

 

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