Chapter 10:

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."



 

Chapter 11:

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.
*****************


 

Chapter 12:

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.
***************************
 

Chapter 13:

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.

 

Chapter 14:

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."
 

Chapter 15:

**************

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."
 

Chapter 16:

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."
**************
 

Chapter 17:

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."
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