Chapter 1:

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."
***********************

Chapter 2:

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.
 

Chapter 3:

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.
 

Chapter 4:
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."


 

Chapter 5:

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."

 

Chapter 6:

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.
 

Chapter 7:

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."
*****************
 

Chapter 8:

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.
**********

 

Chapter 9:

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."

 

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