Chapter 18:

IN THE INTERREGNUM-HOME OFFICE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OCTOBER 1, 2002-SUNYDALE

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

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

JANUARY 7, 2003 INTERDIMENSIONAL SPACE

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

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

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

APRIL 21, 2005

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

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

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

"What do you mean?" Angel asked.

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

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

OCTOBER 28, 2004

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

"What do you want me to do?"

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

"You mean Buffy?"

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

"I would," Angel admitted.

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

IN THE INTERREGNUM- HOME OFFICE

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

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

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

Chapter 19:

SEPTEMBER 21, 2022

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded.

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

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

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

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

MAY 19, 2003

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MAY 20 2003

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

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

APRIL 21, 2005

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

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

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

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

"Oh," she giggled.
 

Chapter 20:

APRIL 21, 2005

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

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

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

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

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

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

IN THE INTERREGNUM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You really think Angel will listen to you?"

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

NOVEMBER 1, 2030

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Leave!"

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

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

APRIL 21, 2005

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 21:

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

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

"What did he show you, Spike?"

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

"Me?" she whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She?" Spike asked.

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

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

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

Chapter 22:

NOVEMBER 1, 2030

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

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

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

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

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

And he really didn't.

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

APRIL 21, 2005

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OCTOBER 13, 2005

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

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

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

"What?" came Talitha's anguished cry.

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

Chapter 23:

NOVEMBER 1, 2030

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 24:

OCTOBER 13, 2005

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

The echo of her tiny heartbeat filled his head. Over the months, Talitha and Buffy and he had bounded. Maybe that was because they all shared something that David Sands couldn't understand. And maybe that was the reason David never trusted him. He could relate. But he was trying to protect the child. She was important, and by extension, so was he. All that David could see was another man moving in on his girls.

Oh, how he could relate.

And because David Sands didn't trust him, he never followed his advice, no matter how well founded. Because of that, he never listened to his warnings about going out alone at night. Spike had tried to assure him that his cautions were in no way an indictment on his manhood. If he loved his wife and child he would keep himself safe.

But, that advice seemed to fall on deaf ears. Now he was hoping that what Angel had told Georgina wasn't true, because if it were then he would have to inform the widow, and the stress could be dangerous for both of them. He already knew that, for a Slayer, Talitha had a delicate constitution. There was something off about her scent. Perhaps it was her impending motherhood that he was sensing.

Spike hoped that he was overreacting, but somehow he knew he wasn't. He hoped that David hadn't been killed, and he hoped that Angelus wasn't responsible, but Spike knew he was.

As he pulled in front of the hospital, Spike was grateful that the sun set early in October, this way he wouldn't have to worry about his "allergy," as Buffy liked to call it, while in polite company. But, if it came down to that little baby's well being, he wouldn't have cared if it were high noon on the hottest day of the year, he was going to find Angelus.

Spike strode quickly through the sliding glass doors, briefly glancing at the volunteers, in their smocks, who sat at the front desk. He could sense Angelus the second he walked in the doors, so there was no need to waste time asking questions of people who didn't understand what went on right under their noses. Besides, Spike was fairly certain that his purposeful steps and baleful countenance made anyone who might have attempted to slow him down, allow him a wide berth.

Spike headed straight to the small room that served as the hospital chapel, but then thought better of it. Angelus could wait. He had to make a stop at the morgue.
***********************

Heather wanted to be a doctor. But everyone had to start somewhere, and for her the starting point was working the evening shift in the County Hospital's morgue.

Most people her age wouldn't take this job. But she didn't mind. It was quiet and no one bothered her. So when someone who was quite obviously not a hospital employee appeared, it was a red-letter day.

"Miss," he said, "I know this normally isn't permitted," Spike lowered his lashes bashfully and said, "but, you see, I was hoping to pay my last respects to my cousin. I just got the news, and I can't quite believe it," he choked, "Was hoping it wasn't true. Do you have someone by the name of David Sands here?"

Heather wasn't sure why, but there was something in his eyes that made her trust him, "I really shouldn't even let you be here," she said, "I should be calling security. But," her eyes drifted sideways in thought, "I'm about to go on my coffee break. I'll be back in ten minutes," she left the clipboard with the manifest on her desk while getting up to go to the break room, "If you're still here when I get back," she nodded as their eyes met, "I'll have to call security,"

"Understood," Spike said.

The manifest said that David Sands was in drawer number three. He quickly strode over and opened it, reverently pulling back the sheet that covered the body. He closed his eyes in shock and frustration as he peered down into the unnaturally serene face of David Sands.

"Oh, no," he breathed.
**********************

Holland admired the small room. Even though the room was not exposed to natural light, it was still illuminated in soft muted colors due to the beautifully painted heavy glass windows.

He was very comfortable here. He knew that places like this were often incubators for troubled souls.

The hunched figure casting a long shadow in the corner was a case in point. Holland quietly slid in beside him, "Honestly Angel, I don't know why you chose to hide here. I mean," his eyes glanced up to admire the prisms of light that traced ribbons across the room, "places like this can be real bonanzas for the Home Office. They're like battlefields," he shrugged, "This is the one place were the Home Office and the Higher Ups tend to meet, and more often then not, this is where they clash. So, why do you hide here, when you knew I'd find you?"

In this place of light, his face was cast in shadow and his voice was heavy with fatigue, "I have nowhere else to be. This is the one place where I know where I stand. And, I need that, even if I'm not welcome here. At least here, things aren't so grey," Angel sighed, "At least here, things make sense."

"I understand," Holland said, "You know he'll think that you had something to do with this, don't you?"

Angel heaved a sigh, "I'm almost counting on it," his brows creased with the stress he was feeling, "Spike is bound and determined to see this thing through no matter what I say. And I don't think that I can stand by and watch him disintegrate," his voice seemed very old, "He's going to learn that a champion can't be everywhere at once. He'll learn that if you bond with them, it only hurts more when you realize that you can't save them. It's better that he learn that now, before he bonds with that child."

Holland smiled wistfully, "Spike is a rambunctious youngster, isn't he? It really is remarkable how he never saw the glass as half empty. With him, it's always half full," he nodded his head in admiration, "I really have to hand it to him. He really is a plucky sort, isn't he?"

Angel shook his head in resignation, "And when he loses everything that's important to him? When the sandcastles he builds are crushed by the waters of grief, what then?"

"My," Holland was surprised, "waxing poetic, and about Spike? He would be proud."

"I don't want him to be like me. But, in order to save him from," his shoulders sagged as he leaned forward, "becoming me I have to make sure something he already loves ceases to exist. If I do what I know I have to, Spike eats himself away with anger. If I don't do this, he falls deeper and deeper in love with Buffy, if that's even possible, and becomes an instrument of humanity's destruction because of his grief and inaction."

Holland nodded in commiseration, "Welcome to the bog that the ethereal dwell in. Believe me, where I am, where the Higher Ups are, there is never a dull moment. It's like waiting on line at the Baskin Robins. The menu board is full of choices and we're all waiting to see what the flavor of the moment is, literally. And, it's all up to you and your choices. It's like dominos down here," Angel was surprised at the exasperated tone in Holland's voice. It was almost as if he actually cared how things came out down here, "One choice impacts another. And we can't tell any of you which one will cause what outcome. It really is up to the people who live down here to make it better. Or to leave it be, that is up to you."
*******************

IN THE INTERREGNUM

Joyce addressed the Spirit with respect, "Yes, they are interesting, aren't they? They're diamonds in the rough. But, I tried to tell you that."

"You did, child. It seems that we may have to reevaluate his status in light of this new development," the Spirit gently chastised her, "Although, we still disapprove of your methods."

She shrugged, "What can I say, I take after my son-in-law."

Jubilant pearls of laughter that were closely followed by Joyce being swept off of her feet by a very excited Spike, "Mum," interrupted the dialog between the beings, " What did you do? I still can't believe it! How did you do it? They told me, but I didn't want to believe it."

Joyce hugged him back, "Believe it. This is the place of miracles, didn't they tell you?" she smiled slyly at him, "Holland is just a gnat in the ointment. Up here, we take up for the underdog, and here you have more of us pulling for you than you know."

Joyce smiled as she heard him squeak, "Really?"

She nodded, reveling in how boyish he was, "Yep. With all due respect to that poof of a Grandsire, there are countless legions of angels in your corner, Spike. Ones you don't even know about. That's why Wolfram and Hart wanted to keep you under their thumb. They were afraid of what you would do if you weren't watched. They still are."

"Poof?" his eyes sparkled with mirth, "Joyce, I love you."
*************************************

Spike quietly slipped into the hospital chapel and found Angel sitting in a corner, "Keeping in mind where we are, Angelus, I will try to keep this simple," Angel looked up to see amber eyes staring back at him, "I know what you told George. I'm here to make certain that you had nothing to do with it."

"Have you been to the morgue?"

"Yes," he hissed, "and if I find out you had anything to do with it, we will have problems. You had better hope that the news does not send mother and baby into a shock that could endanger the baby," his head pivoted menacingly, "Are we clear?"

Angel nodded.
*******************

On the ride back to the dojo, Spike wondered what he would say to her. Over the months, Talitha had opened up to him. He knew all her hopes and fears. She even made sure that he and Buffy were made the tot's legal guardians should something untoward happen to her or her husband, effectively naming Buffy and him the baby's parents.

The weight of the news bowed his shoulders, as he met Buffy at the door. He didn't even have to open his mouth. She knew. It screamed through his eyes.

His shock was mirrored in Buffy's slack-jawed expression and her whispered, "Oh no," as she grasped him tightly, giving Spike the strength he would need to tell Talitha that she was a widow now, "I'll try and prepare her, Spike. Are you all right?"

"No," he confessed. He didn't know if he would ever be all right again.
 

Chapter 25:
OCTOBER 16, 2005

He put his hand to the glass, afraid that the tiny bundle of pink on the other side would evaporate if he touched her. Or was it that he was afraid to touch the little ray of sunshine, for fear that he would disintegrate? He wasn't sure. He did know that that little girl had been through more in her first forty-eight hours of life than most went through in fifty years.

She'd fought her way here, and now she was fighting to stay. She had no idea how cruel this world had already been to her. It had taken her Daddy and her Mum before she had even been born. She was new to this world, and already an orphan.

Seeing that painfully small bundle of life wriggle in her incubator made him feel his true age, perhaps for the first time. He remembered that, when he was human, infants that small didn't survive. Now looking at the wires and the machines that aided her, he was saddened by the intrusiveness of modern technology. He wouldn't have blamed the little thing one bit if she decided that the world she had crashed into was too cruel and too hard to stay. Spike wouldn't be surprised if she chose to leave, because something in him said that she knew there was no one to protect her here.

No one, that is, except for him. And, he wasn't sure he could do it.
*************************************
IN THE INTERREGNUM

He spun her around again, "Joyce, how did you do it? I'd given up. Really, I had. I knew it belonged to Angel. Didn't much care for the idea, but I knew what I'd given up when Drusilla had Buffy. I would have given up anything to have her. My eyes were open. I knew that I'd never be with her," his voice was overcome with emotion, "Especially after what I did to put things right. I'd accepted it."

Joyce was swept along with Spike's emotions, "I know you did," she choked, "That's why I couldn't leave you there. Buffy was so lost without you, even here. She hurt. I couldn't let that happen," she shrugged, her eyes twinkling, "What can I say, I couldn't wait."

Spike raised an eyebrow, "Joyce, you have no idea how much I love you."

"Spin me around one more time and I might start to have one," she laughed.

He shrugged. He could never resist a Summers woman, "If you insist," he smiled, whirling her once more. When he'd set her an her feet again, he asked, "Where is that beautiful wife of mine?" he sighed, "It really has been forever. I miss her so much."

Joyce smiled and shook her head, "Not half as much as she missed you," Joyce stepped back and pointed off into the distance, "She's been waiting for you. I think you had better make an appearance. She still doesn't believe it. Neither does your daughter."

He smiled, "Well, seeing is believing, isn't it," he winked at Joyce and gave her a kiss on the cheek, "I'd better go. Thanks again," he said as he walked toward Buffy.

"You're welcome," she sighed as she watched her family reunite.

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

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

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

As he listened to her cry, he whispered soothing words to her, "Hush, Love," he smiled at the beautiful emerald glow of love in her eyes, "I don't ever want to leave you again."
*********************

Buffy hadn't wanted to leave him there. Talitha's death had been a shock for them both, and it truly was a miracle that the baby, tiny as it was, had survived this long. Spike had refused to leave the baby's side so she didn't want to leave his. After all, she'd argued, they were a team, and a team doesn't work if there's only one member. It also doesn't work if her teammate collapses from hunger and exhaustion. But he had insisted that she go home and get some rest. Spike told he to come back at sunup, explaining that her arrival would keep him orientated as to time.

She had reluctantly agreed. She had done this for two days straight.

As she stepped off of the elevator onto the neonatal unit, she was glad she'd remembered to pack two thermoses of coffee. One thermos was filled with black coffee; the other was filled with coffee that was laced with pig's blood. She was glad she was here now, because it looked like Spike hadn't moved a single muscle in over twenty-four hours.

Buffy waved at the charge nurse at the desk, she remembered that her name was Tara, as she walked by. Buffy saw the concerned look that passed over the nurse's face as her eyes drifted toward the haggard man who stood at the nursery window. They were fleeting glances that Buffy wasn't meant to see, but she did. Buffy heard the whispers too. The staff had begun to murmur that they had never seen such devotion in a father. They were starting to worry about his health. Buffy sighed as she came up beside him, gazing down at the little warriors in their bassinets. They were all warriors. Every baby in this unit was fighting to stay alive.

Buffy silently poured the thermos contents into a cup, and handed it to Spike, "Here," she handed him the cup, letting her fingers brush lightly against his but never taking her eyes off of the window, "breakfast is served."

Spike felt a shock of warmth shoot through him at her touch, but couldn't afford to take his eyes off of that little baby he'd only just realized he'd loved from the moment he saw her. His eyes remained fixed on the window, "She's so tiny, Love," he whispered, "Her skin is translucent. It's as thin as paper," he gasped involuntarily, the fact that he did not need to breathe forgotten completely. Buffy noticed his slow, regular breathing. It was almost as if he was trying to teach her how to do it, willing her to live, "She's a paper doll. So delicate," he looked at Buffy in agonized wonder, "How can she trust me?"

"She's new, Spike. They all are. Trust is the only thing they know. It's all they can do," Buffy brushed her fingers against his as he held the cup, "Now drink up. You're starting to worry the nurses," she lowered her voice, "And me."

He acquiesced and took a small sip from the warm cup, "Better?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Tons," she sighed as they walked the short distance to the parents' lounge area on the unit. She took his hands in hers as they sat down on the old sofa that was trying to make the antiseptic hospital seem a little less antiseptic, "Giles finalized the paperwork. By this afternoon," she pointed to the glass enclosure, "That little bundle of pink fluff in there will have a home to go home to," Buffy smiled shyly, "She'll be a 'Dustin,' officially."

"If she makes it home," Spike said grimly.

Buffy's eyes flashed with fury, "Don't you dare give our little girl a death wish! Hasn't she been through enough?"

Spike's eyes were downcast, "Certain sure, Pet. May be she's been through too much for someone so little."
*************************************

IN THE INTERREGNUM

Spike gave her one last hug before letting her fly, "Well Dove," he said with pride, "it's show time. Remember what I used to sing to you when you got scared?"

Jonina tilted her head, trying to pull the memory up into her conscience mind, "Yes, Daddy. I think I do."

"Well it still applies. Whether you hear me, or not, I'm right here," he nodded firmly, grasping her tighter, "Know that."

"I do, Daddy," she said as she melted from his sight.
**********************************

Buffy tried to soothe his nerves, "Don't worry Spike, we'll find out exactly what killed Talitha. Giles is working on it right now. He flew her body all the way back to Rome. Everyone in the Council is working on it. Dawn has all her people working on it," she drew his eyes up to her and marveled at just how blue they were, even though they were clouded with worry and weariness, "She's just like you Spike," for an instant Buffy saw his eyes flash with horror. Buffy knew that he worried about her. And now, with Dawn's new position working in the Council's laboratories, he worried for her even more than usual. She shook her head, trying to clarify, "No, not like that. She just loves to sink her teeth," as his eyes widened, Buffy realized the comparison wasn't helping at all, and she spoke faster, "Not literal teeth, Spike! She just loves a challenge," she smiled at him, "And she loves bossing Illyria around, too."

"Doesn't surprise me," he smiled weakly at her, "She always was a bossy bint. Just like her sister."

"Hey!" Buffy gave him a playful slap on the arm.

"Sorry Love, but it's true," he smiled a playful smile, "It's what I love most about the both of you. You know what you want, and you know how to get it."

Buffy's face scrunched in confusion, "You did know of me three or four years ago, didn't you?" she looked down bashfully, "I wasn't exactly known for my communication skills."

Spike chuckled, and rubbed his thumbs along the back of her hands affectionately, "Might have heard of you, yeah. My nose certainly remembers you."

Buffy winced. She often wondered just how many times she had broken Spike's nose over the years, "Sorry about that."

"Think nothing of it," he nodded toward the empty plastic cup that once again rested on top of the thermos jug, "Thanks for this."

"I knew you'd be needing it," she said as she strolled with him back to the nursery window.

Buffy saw how small the baby was. She looked like an astronaut floating in space with only wires and tubes to keep her company. To Buffy it seemed cold and unfeeling.

Suddenly an idea struck her. She knew how tactile Spike was, and she knew that this was something that they all would need if they were going to be a family.

"I'll be right back," she said as she left to get the nurses' okay to go ahead with her plan.

As Spike watched her talking softly with the nurses, he looked back at the glass and wondered if he would be a good father. He wondered if he could be tender enough to care for her, yet tough enough to protect her from this world that had already dealt her such devastating blows.

He didn't know if he could do it, but he knew that if he didn't try, he would be letting her down. So he promised her that he would do his best. And he promised her that promise with his whole heart.

Just as he made that promise, his ears picked up a slight jump in her heart rhythm just before the machines started to beep and click, and whirr alerting the doctors and nurses of the change. The nurses swarmed in with stark looks on their faces, ready to give whatever help the child required.

At first, Spike was alarmed. But then a strange sort of calm seemed to settle over him as he whispered to her, "That's it baby. You light up. You let them all know that you're here and that you're strong. Daddy's here now. I'll be right beside you. I'm never leaving you," he smiled to himself, "I even have a name picked out for you. I'm sure your Mum will agree. I think I'll call you Jonina. I'll call you Jonina Irene," he nodded, as it seemed to fit her, "You're my little 'Dove of Peace."

He held Buffy close as she came back to stand beside him, saying, "Come on, 'Daddy,' let's say hello to our daughter."
*********
 

Chapter 26:

Spike fumbled nervously with the cap and mask that the nurse had given him to wear. He looked sheepishly up at Buffy, "I don't know about this, Love. Are you sure I won't frighten her, looking like this?"

Buffy stood on tiptoe to help him pull the sterile cap over his ears and to whisper to him, "Love," she brushed her lips against his ear, "there are so many things that she's worried about right now, seeing those bright blue eyes of yours," she stood back to be sure everything was in place, "well to be honest, I'm a little jealous. How could she be scared of you when the cap matches those eyes?" she shrugged turning him and giving the mask tie one last check, "Now, why don't you and she get acquainted," she said as she opened the nursery door and let him step through once she was certain his feet were covered with plastic booties.

Spike felt like an alien stepping into that room. Never had he felt more like a bull in a china shop then he did at this moment. He was never more afraid to move a muscle. Rows and rows of paper dolls, and they all looked so breakable. He searched the room for a friendly face, someone to show him what to do. He found his savior in the nurse in the pink smock that smiled at him with her eyes, she had to, the eyes were the only part of her face that was uncovered, and showed him to the baby girl's bassinet.

His knees were shaking as he sat in the rocker next to the child as she lay in her incubator. He was unsure of what to do next. He wasn't even sure if he could touch the sides of the glass cradle that held her without causing her harm.

The nurse noticed and said kindly, "Mister Dustin?" she asked sweetly, "Do you see the holes on the side of the isolet, the ones that have the elastic stretched across them?"

He nodded.

"Good. You can put your hand through that hole. The other side is kind of like a windbreaker with elastic around the cuff. It will stretch to fit your hand," her eyes smiled again, "You can put your hand through, as long as you're wearing gloves," at his alarmed look she added, "I'm sure she's just fine. But considering that her arrival was a little bumpy, we want to make sure her immune system is strong. It is pretty weak right now. But she's getting better. And she'll get better faster if she knows her father's touch," she nodded encouragement, "Go on, touch her."

He looked up at the nurse, "You're sure it's all right? I don't want to hurt her."

The nurse's eyes smiled again as she looked down at the cradle, "Well, would you look at that," she seemed astonished, "You may not be sure, Daddy, but she is," she pointed a finger at the baby, "Look," she said, "I think she heard you. And I think she knows who her Daddy is. She's looking right at you."

Spike turned in time to see two little brown eyes staring at him as if to ask him all the questions in the world, starting with the one every child seems to ask, "Are you my Daddy?"

He blinked. This little baby was looking at him as if he were her world. Which Spike knew would work out nicely, because at that very moment she was his entire world.

His vision was eclipsed by the smallness of her. Everything about her was small, too small, and it brought tears to his eyes to see her struggling. To see her tiny feet as the kicked weakly at the air, her hands, that were so tiny that Spike was sure that the whole of her hand could fit through the wedding ring he wore on his finger, balled up into wee fists, as if to take on the world. And her heart; Spike could actually see her heart fluttering in her chest with the speed of a Hummingbird's wings.

He was so in awe of her that when that hand, that tiny, little hand was actually pressed up against the walls of her cage, he audibly gasped. She was trying to reach for his finger as it ghosted up against the barrier between them.

In that instant he knew what to do. His cautiously slid the fingers of one hand through the opening to touch her lightly with his fingertips. He started with the top of her head, and slowly made his way down to the soles of her feet. Spike was careful to use just the tips of his fingers because his palm alone would have covered her completely.

As his fingers felt the tiny bones in her hands and fingers desperately trying to gain purchase as this giant suddenly invaded her world, all the muscles seemed to come under her command at once and she closed her fingers around the tip of his index finger, and would not let go. He felt the pressure of her fingers around his and was amazed. For someone so small, she was exerting strength that was the equivalent of a vice just trying to hold on to him.

Right then his heart melted, "Oh, hello cutie," he whispered, as he felt the pressure of tears building up, "It's me. I'm your Daddy. I don't really know why you chose me. I think you might not know what you've gotten into, Dove," the skin of her forehead seemed to crease a little. It was as if she were asking him if he'd lost his mind; of course she knew what she was signing up for. Would there be any other person, any other family worthy of her time?

He chucked as the pressure around his finger increased, "Oh, so I'm the daft one, am I? Well, if you insist. You know, with all due respect to your Mum, I think you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," Spike winked at her, "And believe me when I tell you, I've seen more than my fair share of beautiful women. I promise, I may not always do it right," he smiled to himself, "and sometimes it may look like something else, but I'll try to protect you. Can you hear me, Jonina?"

Spike cocked his head to the side, scrutinizing every detail of her, committing her to his memory. He took note of the velvet feel of her skin, and the brassy timbre if her blood as it rushed through her little body.

Spike detected a slight hitch in her breathing. It was so slight that the machines that she depended on hadn't even picked it up. Perhaps he was being over vigilant. He tried to dismiss it. But, he began to notice a slight discoloration on her left cheek and called the nurse over, thinking that it might be a sign of something threatening. He was so unnerved by the sight that he had to make sure he had full control over his baser instincts, so as not to alarm anyone, before voicing his concerns, "Nurse, there seems to be a variation in her skin tone, around the arch of her cheekbone," he tried to keep his tone calm, his eyes flicking toward the gages that monitored the oxygen content in the isolet. The monitors indicated nothing amiss. But, he could sense something was off, and if it wasn't remedied soon, the baby could suffer brain damage, or worse. "Nurse," Spike stuttered nervously, "I'm no expert but, her skin seems a bit blue. Is there something wrong with the oxygen flow to her cradle?"

The woman in the veil of pastel pink came rushing over, her brows furrowed with cautious worry. She checked the monitors and let in an involuntary breath while pushing buttons. Her voice tried to sound calming, but Spike knew he'd been right. He knew it.

"Everything checks out. Why don't you let us examine this little princess," she said as she quickly ushered him from the nursery, "We'll keep you informed Daddy. Don't worry," she said as she closed the door, effectively cutting him off from the only person who truly loved him, without question.

He was alone again. Set adrift.

Then, as if by some miracle, Buffy appeared. And, he held tight to her, for dear life.

Buffy quickly undid Spike's face mask as she watched tears roll down his cheeks and tried to comfort him, "Let's go home," he whimpered in protest, his body stiffened in sympathy for the pain the child was going through with strangers swarming all around, "Just for a few hours," Buffy was saying, "I can bring the car into the underground parking lot," she peppered his tear-streaked face with kisses, "Meet me there. We'll both get some rest. Then we'll be back. I promise."
*************************************

IN THE INTERREGNUM-HOME OFFICE

Holland slammed his fist on his desk, in a rare show of temper. He had worked too hard and for too many years to let a child ruin the Senior Partners' plans.

Every contingency was planned for, and countered. He had the right mix of envy, fear and of course, the extra dose of Angel's paranoia only made it sweeter.

He looked at the figures again. He must be missing something. What was he missing? Why was he losing? He knew it wasn't the Angelus angle. No, it couldn't be that, he had Angelus so spun, so lost in a miasma of displaced guilt, that Holland was sure he actually had him convinced that the child was an agent of destruction.

He was sure that Angel had no idea the power she actually wielded. He'd made sure of that. So what was thwarting his plans?

It was miniscule, Holland knew that, and as he looked at the reports that were strewn across his desk, he knew he had to find it.

The blur of words on the paper melted into focus on the one factor Holland hadn't considered. And he hadn't considered it because in the Home Office it didn't enter into the picture.

"I don't know how, but I have to find a way around this."
*******************************

Angel watched, from the safety of shadow, as Spike peered down at the infants in the intensive care unit. He looked exhausted, and perhaps that was the reason he was able to get this close to his target without being noticed. Spike was too focused on the newborn to notice him and that was good.

He had waited for hours for his opening. And it finally came in the guise of a caring wife.

As Buffy led Spike to the parents' lounge, Angel drew the mask up over his face, completing his camouflage. Angel silently made his way into the sterile room. He knew his disguise was perfect because no one questioned his presence near the children. If Spike were watching, he would only see another nurse in a sea of nurses.

He strode up to the monitors that watched over the little girl, pushed a few buttons, and walked away. No one even blinked as he left the room and then the hospital, and took refuge in the sewer tunnels beneath the city.

Now, all that was left to do was wait.
**************************

Buffy led Spike past a very worried looking Georgina, "Close down for a while George," Buffy mumbled as they went by, "No calls. Tell people that there's been a family emergency or something."

George nodded, "Already done. We've been closed down for three days now."

"Good. If you hear anything...

"I know where to find you."

As Georgina Roberts watched them go up the steps, she put the finishing touches on her letter. She knew it wasn't much, but maybe it would help them through the hard times.

She hit the last few keystrokes, then reread it before hitting print:

Dear Spike and Buffy,

I know I'm just a secretary here, and right now there are bigger things to think about than my opinion. But,
since the baby can't speak for herself right now, I'm sure I speak for her when I say that she's strong, and
she'll make it.

I say this from experience. I was a baby who was in such a rush to be in this world that I came even earlier
than she did, and I'm still here. All that little girl needs to survive is time and a little love. And you both
have those things, in excess.

That is a very lucky little girl, and I think I might be a little jealous.

Georgina

She pressed print and placed the letter where she was sure they would find it, made sure to forward all the dojo's calls, and left for home.
**************************

Spike finally drifted off to sleep. He didn't want to sleep, but his body had taken over and wasn't listening to him anymore. Vampire or not, going three days without sleep would shut down anyone's system. And Buffy was glad that the lines on his face had finally smoothed out. The blood he'd taken did help, but not much.

She lay down next to him and he seemed to melt into her embrace. He purred softly as her scent invaded his sleep, "She'll be all right, Spike. I know she will. With you in her corner, she's already a winner."
 

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