Chapter 27:

Spike looked so angelic when he slept. The only things that gave a hint of his true age were the small scars on his face. Those scars were his badges of honor, but they just reminded her of all the pain he'd been through. Some of the scars were visible, but some were not.

She had years of hurt to make up for.

Spike prided himself on the assumption that he was nothing like Angel. He gloated about it in fact. But, the truth was, the two of them were so much alike it was scary. The only difference that she could see was in how they dealt with things. Angel was the type that would hold things in and let them build up to a slow burn, which, if he weren't careful, would end in an explosion that might take out half a city block, and anyone who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Buffy had been burned in a few of those explosions. So had Spike.

Spike was the type that wore his heart on his sleeve, almost daring anyone to just come along and tear it right off of that sleeve and stomp on it. She knew he'd dared her to, more than once. Spike would tell you when something hurt. And he would tell you loudly.

But even Spike had a breaking point. Even he could be hurt once too often. Even he could become numb and shut down if he'd just seen too much, hurt too much.

Buffy saw the look in Spike's eyes. He tried to hide it, for her sake, she supposed. But, it was there when he looked at her. She knew that look. She'd seen it when she looked in the mirror, before her Mom died. He was looking at her like he knew she was going to die.

She was not stupid. She knew that one day it would happen. She would die, and she wouldn't be coming back. It was just a part of life.

But, she'd never really looked at that part of life from his perspective before, from the perspective of someone who could, quite possibly, go on forever.

What would it be like, to watch things be born, watch them grow and change, and know you never would? What would it be like to watch things die, knowing that you would stay the same?

It could make for a very lonely existence.

As Buffy watched him sleeping, she realized why Spike had clung so tight to the idea that she would, someday, love him. That hope was all that kept him connected to the world. It was all that kept him a part of it.

Buffy had to admit, even the idea of love was a better way of dealing with a world that didn't want you than trying to end it on a regular basis.
*****************************

Angel didn't know why he thought he could hide here. Holland belonged in the sewers anyway, so it wasn't a surprise to see him here. What did surprise him was the fact that the Brooks Brothers suit still seemed impeccably tailored even down here, "Isn't it bad enough you haunt me topside? Do you have to annoy me down here too?"

Holland took in his surroundings in disgust, taking his red linen handkerchief from its place in his vest pocket and guarding his mouth and nose against the stench of the sewage, "You'd think being incorporeal I'd be saved from having to smell things like this. But I suppose that there is a reason a 'dirty job' gets its name."

Angel winced. Holland's voice, his very presence, had always been like fingernails on a chalkboard to him, but it had never been this bad before, "What do you want, Holland?" Angel couldn't keep the whining tone out of his voice, "I've ruined their lives. They'll never forgive me," he shook his head, sadly, "They shouldn't. I've ruined an innocent life in order to save the life of someone who doesn't want me in his life."

Holland took his notebook from his pocket, and consulted it, giving a slight nod; "You're speaking of Stephen, now aren't you?"

"Yes."
******************

Buffy had to do something. She'd tried to go back to sleep, but something made her restless and she had no idea why. She just had a queasy feeling in her stomach and she wanted to hunt down whatever it was that put the feeling there. She wanted to find it, and kill it for making her feel useless. Perhaps it was that their daughter was in the hospital fighting for her life and there was nothing she could do to help.

But, since killing babies was definitely not in the Slayer code, she would just have to settle for beating the stuffing out of the tackling dummy that was down in the dojo.

She was the Slayer. It took actually running away from all that that meant, it took highjaking a bunch of teenage girls into a life they weren't prepared to deal with, to understand what being a Slayer really meant. It meant protecting the innocent. It meant protecting those who could not protect themselves. If she couldn't protect a tiny little girl, then what was she here for?

The more she pummeled the dummy the weaker she felt. She wasn't as strong as that little girl. And, she knew she never would be.

Buffy just hoped that she could be a good Mommy.
********************

Spike had fallen asleep amidst vanilla and roses and had dreams of home and hearth. He knew that in the waking world there were things he couldn't have. Things made up of sugar and spice were off limits to things like him.

He was never one for rules. He'd rather do what he wanted and ask permission later. That tended to be irksome to the Powers, whoever they were. So really it came as no surprise that the closer he got to having just those things, the things he wasn't supposed to have, the more those forces seemed to align against him.

But he knew Jonina was strong. He didn't know how he knew, but he did. He would have her, and Buffy, and they would be a family. They would be all right. He would make sure of it.

Spike reached out in his sleep for Buffy but found the space beside him empty. He sat up and searched the room frantically with his eyes, but noticed that her space on the bed was still warm from her body heat so that meant she hadn't left that long ago.

Spike heard the muffled sounds of a scuffle beneath him. He felt the emotions surging through him: Confusion. Anger. Hurt. His mate, his wife was hurting and needed him.

The baby. Oh God.

Before he knew what was happening, he found himself bounding out of bed and down the stairs, his demon rushing forward to protect her. He let out a territorial growl, his eyes sweeping the dojo for any concealed threat. Everything seemed in order.

That was when he noticed the dummy, its stuffing strewn all about. It looked like a cotton mill had exploded beneath his feet. And there stood his Slayer, his love, in the center of all the fluffy carnage, with tufts of the cotton tangled in her hair, pouting like a lost child, her eyes brimming with tears.

Buffy heard the growl and looked up to see Spike staring at her, his azure eyes smiling as he took in the damage she'd done. She didn't want to wake him, but she had. She'd made too much noise. In his rush, he'd come downstairs in just his dungarees. Those only made him look even more vulnerable to her. He'd even forgotten his boots; he stood there, as the innards of the tackling dummy lay around him, with nothing protecting his feet. His feet looked so small. She looked down at the clouds of white around her, and sniffed, "Sorry. I think I broke him."

Spike nodded, "Yeah, looks that way," he knelt down to pick up a mangled mound of rags and fluff that had once been an arm, and said, "What have you got against old Scarecrow anyway, Pet?"

Buffy let out a frustrated sigh, "I don't know, all right?" she yelled, "I just needed to hit something, and you were asleep so I just..." she shrugged, bringing her eyes up to his, "I don't know how to help," she whimpered.

Spike looked at her eyes. They were so open, for once, and giving. He saw how much she wanted to protect him. How much she truly loved him, and he felt a warmth, the likes of which he hadn't felt before, shoot through him.

He stepped gingerly over the remains of Ray the scarecrow, and took her in his arms. As she fell into his arms, he whispered, "It'll be all right, Love. Joni will be fine."

The question was soft against his chest, "Joni?"

He swallowed the nervous tickle in his throat as he fished the cotton out of her hair, "It's her name. I gave her a name. Figured it would help her to fight, if she knew she was important enough to have a name," Spike looked down at her teary eyes, "You know, show her that someone in this world believes in her."

"Oh, Spike," she choked, "Joni what?"

"Jonina actually. Jonina Irene," he said shakily, "Is that all right with you, Love?"

"It's beautiful, Spike. How do you do it?" Buffy asked, her eyes swimming.

Spike looked down into those shimmering pools of jade and drowned for the thousandth time that day, "Do what, Love?" he asked tenderly, brushing his lips against hers.

"Stay so hopeful in a world that rejects you?"

Spike put his chin up in thought and sighed, searching for the right words to help her understand. He chuckled to himself, "Funny you should ask that, Love," he kissed her again, tasting the salt and bitterness of her tears, "If I didn't have hope I wouldn't be here."

Buffy looked down in shame, "You mean with me?"

"No. I mean at all. I would have died over a hundred years ago," he smirked at the irony, "I mean, I did die and all, but I wouldn't be talking to you. I'd just be some footnote in history. Not worth anything. I had hope that there was something beyond my death. And, I was right," Spike put his fingers under her chin, and brought her gaze up to his, "There was my life," he caught a tear as it cascaded down her face, "There was you. And now there's Jonina."
***********************

IN THE INTERREGNUM

"I don't know about this, Joyce. It seems so unfair to them both. Can't they know? Why can't I tell them?"

Joyce was still surprised at how young he could be, "Now Spike, you knew this was how it would be when you went in Joni's place, remember. You said you understood then. Are you backing out now?"

His eyes went wide with the possibility that this small chance could be taken from him, "No! It's just," his eyes swept downward, "being so close, seeing how they're suffering, and not be near them, not tell them? I don't think I could do that."

Joyce smiled at him, "I know you've never been good with waiting, but, those angels I told you about? They broke so many rules to give you, Buffy and Joni this small chance at happiness," she took him by the shoulders and shook him slightly, "Don't squander it because of your nervous energy. Good things are worth waiting for."
*********************

DECEMBER 6, 2027

The caretaker strode slowly through the grounds. There was a new resident today. He'd observed other interments from his vantage point in the cottage. He'd seen other family members grieve for loved ones lost, and it hurt him, every time. That was why he took his job here so seriously, it was his way of trying to do what little he could to ease the suffering he saw. Every goodbye hurt him just a little.

But for some reason, seeing this widow, and her beautiful daughter saying their final goodbyes, cut him, and it cut him deep.

They were both so young, but they looked so old. The widow couldn't have reached her fiftieth year, but her eyes looked ten times older.

He wondered how someone that young, could look that old. He felt old, working here. But someone that beautiful shouldn't feel old.

He wondered what those eyes could have seen.

The daughter was no different, barely into her second decade and already wise beyond her years. It made his heart hurt. But sometimes when someone is taken away through illness, or unexpectedly, the ones left behind haven't fully let go, and so some part of them leaves with the departed, leaving a ghost where the heart should be.

Because he knew what it was to feel that, he decided to take special care of that little family. He would do what he could to make the hurt less.

He'd waited until well after hours to appear, making sure that she had left the cemetery. And although he felt a weight on his heart, for some reason he felt the need to sing, as he attended to this particular gravesite. It was a song that was an odd one to be singing in a graveyard, if this was a place where gaiety belonged at all, but he sang it just the same, to comfort something that pulled deep inside his bones.

"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."

Joni froze. Just as she was about to leave the cemetery, she heard it. Maybe it was because she missed him. Maybe it was because she was so tired she couldn't think straight. But, she'd heard it. Their song; the song that washed over broken hearts and bumped knees, the song that was the last clear thing he'd ever said to her. The song she carried with her in her heart when he could no longer speak. It was there. She'd heard it.

Joni closed her eyes, as a cool wind blew against her cheek, "I love you, Daddy," she whispered as she left the cemetery, "Always and forever."
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Chapter 28:

IN THE INTERREGNUM

Spike's eyes remained hooded in deference of all that Joyce and nameless others had sacrificed to bring him here. He was well aware that his place here was tenuous, at best, "I understand," he tried to keep the tremor out of his voice, "I won't tell them. I'll take it slow. I won't push. She can take as long as she likes. It wouldn't be the same if she weren't ready. But, Joni," his voice was tight, "I love her. I think you know that. I have to be near, to help her," he pleaded with the Spirit that held his life in the balance, "If I'm not with her, she could get lost again. And it could all happen again," he felt the tears as they slid down his face, "Then, all that I've done will have been for nothing. I swear, they won't know it's me. I won't reveal myself until they're ready."
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DECEMBER 2, 2028-LOS ANGELES

As she sat next to her on the plane, with nothing but sky and the ground miles below for company, Joni began to hate the silence.

Her mother hadn't spoken in months. Joni really wasn't surprised. When Angelus showed up at her Daddy's grave and dropped the bomb, she'd wanted to set him on fire. She even reached for his beloved lighter to do the honors. Joni remembered wanting to scream. She wanted to tear him apart for coming to her Daddy's grave to unburden his soul. And she would have too, if her Mommy hadn't put her hand on her shoulder, and spoke quietly in her ear, "Joni, the Slayer doesn't kill humans."

That was the last time her Mom had spoken.

That was almost three months ago. The doctors didn't know how to help her. She hadn't known what to do. If it hadn't been for her friendship with the cemetery gardener, she would still be frozen with fear.

It was the gardener who'd given her this idea, "Take her someplace that feels like home to her. We all grieve differently," the gardener paused, and Joni wondered at him, as a strange look clouded his eyes. He seemed to nod to himself, "Yes," he'd said, "Take her somewhere where your mother can put the ghosts away and start to live again."

That was why she'd bundled her Mom up, and against doctors' advice, started on the trip back to where it all began for them; the little dojo on Jennings Street.

It was her "Homecoming Day," the day she saw the gardener for the first time. She had begun visiting her Daddy every day since her Mom no longer could bring herself to do so. She was still mad at the world for taking her Daddy away, and giving such a precious gift to someone who didn't deserve it.
************
NOVEMBER 1, 2028- NEW HOPE CEMETERY- NEW ENGLAND

The caretaker made his usual rounds. He strode confidently past the Peterson crypt, and made sure that Elijah Morris's nephews had not thrown the rocks that were left on his tombstone and in a fit of youthful exuberance, did damage to his neighbors' resting places.

Everything seemed in its place, until he happened upon the Dustin plot.

There was someone lying on the sod above William's resting place. A quick look at his watch told him that he wasn't early; it was this girl who was extremely late.

Fearing that he might have to summon medical help, he approached quickly. But as he got closer his ears picked up her soft, regular breathing. She had fallen asleep.

The poor thing had actually cried herself to sleep.

Not wanting to wake her by shining his flashlight in her eyes, he knelt down and shook her gently, "Rise and shine, little one," he said softly, "Time to get you back to your bed."

In the twilight of half-sleep, her true heart's wish came through, "Daddy?" she mumbled.

His heart went out to her. She must miss her father terribly. He had to bite the flesh of his inner cheek to fight the urge to tell her everything would be all right. Suddenly the right words came to him, "Your Daddy's always with you, Sweetheart," he whispered, brushing the maple-colored hair from her temple, "But I'm certain he wouldn't want you to freeze to death out here."

The voice was comforting, like a warm blanket. In her dream state, she could have sworn it was her Daddy. The haze of longing made her eyes snap open in a vain attempt to catch him. He flew away into the shadows of sleep. In the light of waning starlight, a stranger stood in his place.

Joni wiped the tears from her eyes as she stood up, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be any trouble," she felt her lips quiver and she wasn't sure if it was the cold, or the hole in her heart that was causing it.

"It's no trouble."

"...It's just that today is my 'Homecoming Day.' And this is the first one he's missed," her eyes looked down at the frost that covered the tips of the grass under her feet, "The last one, he was very sick, but I still had him," she sniffed, "I could still hug him and tell him that I loved him," her eyes drifted shut as she felt a cold breeze brush past her, "I don't have that anymore."

"Sweetheart," he struggled to find the words, as his heart was gripped in pain for her, "you've been here since yesterday," even in the glow of impending sunrise he could see the deep well of pain, that she drew her only sustenance from, in her deep sienna eyes, "Surely your father," he nearly choked on the word, "wouldn't want you to risk your heath? Not for his sake. Go home now."

"What time is it?" she asked.

The question caught him off guard, "Four in the morning," he blinked, as he saw her face set in determination, "Why?"

"Then I have to stay. It's past midnight. It's November first. Today is my 'Homecoming Day.'"

Conflicting emotions warred in him as he studied her. He didn't know whether to scold her or kiss her forehead, "It will be November first all day today, Sweetheart. For twenty more hours, to be exact," he smiled at her, "I'm sure you're father wouldn't mind if you went home to rest and then came back."

"No," she shook her head, "you don't understand. I can't leave. He has to know I'm here. I can't leave," the tone of her voice was rising with anxiety, "Please," she begged, "don't make me leave," her tears shone like beacons of life in this place of death, "Please, let me stay?"

His eyes closed in sympathy for her, "Your father knows you're here," he said softly, "Believe me. He knows," he put a hand on her shoulder and felt her shudder from the cold, "It's cold out here. You should go home," her eyes told him she needed to talk. He nodded his head in the direction of his cottage, "If I make you some tea, will you tell me why today is so important?"

Something in his voice, in the way he stood, was familiar to her, "You know, you're right. I should go home. My Daddy was always worried that I'd catch a chill," she smiled in thanks, "The tea is a nice offer. But, no thank you. I will tell you why today is so important though," she was surprised to feel her heart jump when she saw the stranger smiling back at her, "because you seem like a nice man."

He bowed slightly, "Why thank you, young Miss. That is very kind of you to say."

"You are very welcome. Do you know how some people only celebrate their birthdays and Christmas?"

"Yes."

"Well you see," she mused, "I'm sort of special. My father died before I was born and my mother died giving birth to me a few hours later."

His eyes widened in saddened shock, "Oh, I'm so sorry!"

"It's all right," she assured him, "because my Mom and Daddy adopted me before I even came out of the hospital. I had a home to come to. And I did. On November first, I came home to live with them," she smiled, "So I have my birthday, Christmas, and 'Homecoming Day.'"

"That's a nice memory."

"Yes," Joni said, "it is. What's your name?"

"What?"

"I told you something very personal. I don't do that with strangers. My name is Joni," she said, as she shook his hand, "What's yours?"

"Call me...Homer."

"Well Homer," she said wearily, "it's time I said goodnight," she looked back over her shoulder, as she left the grounds, at the man standing beside her Daddy's tombstone, "I wouldn't want my Daddy angry with me. Take care of him while I'm gone, will you?"

As he watched her disappear from sight, he whispered, "Always, Dove. Always."
**************************

DECEMBER 2, 2028-LOS ANGELES

The building's bricks were somewhat faded from the sunlight and weather, but it was still a sound structure. Joni was sure it was safe to bring her Mom inside. Even though it had been seven years since they'd lived in the little apartment above the dojo, to Joni, this was home. She had no problem getting the key so that she could gain entry to do what she needed to do before she brought her Mom here. After all, the property still belonged to the family. She'd had her Aunt Willow make sure everything was safe, and just as they had left it.

Joni knew that her Mom and Daddy had intended to come back when he got better. Unfortunately for all of them, he never did.

She just hoped this would help her Mommy remember what her Daddy had promised them.

"We're here, Mom," she said gently as she helped her mother out of the car. Joni felt the sharp brittleness of her mother's body, even under the loose, ill-fitting clothing she wore. She continued to coo to her as she led her into the building, "You'll see. It's all right to remember," her face softened as she looked at her mother's anguish and grief as it poured out of her. Joni could almost feel the sobs that wanted to tear out of her. Her Mom was frightened, "It's okay Mommy. Daddy would want you to remember."
**************************************

OCTOBER 20, 2005

As the second day dawned with still no sign of Spike at his usual post at the nursery window, Buffy became alarmed. She asked the nurses if they had seen her husband.

They all smiled at her as one of them said, "He said to tell you not to worry. He said to tell you that he was going to go to one of those all night superstores to pick up some paint for Jonina's room. And, if you needed him he'd be back at the flat until evening."

"Oh," Buffy sighed, "that's a relief. So I guess that means that Joni's out of danger then? If he felt it was safe enough to leave her for very long?"

Rose, the day nurse, nodded her head, rapidly, clearly astonished at the little girl's improvement, "Yep. We've never seen anything like it," she winked at her, " The nurses and I have a treasure trove of sweets for her if she makes it home by Halloween. And, if she doesn't, we'll give them to her anyway. That girl's just blown us all away."

"Well then, if you're sure Joni's okay, I think I'll check on my husband."
**************************

The smell of fresh paint was palpable as soon as she walked through the door of the dojo. If the smell was this thick downstairs, even with the windows open to let in fresh air, Buffy wondered what it was like in the apartment. She didn't have to wonder long. Spike's gentle baritone floated down the stairs to meet her, "Love, if you're coming up, I've left a mask for you. It's in the locker room. The air is a touch thick in here," he chuckled, "The not needing air thing? It really is handy at times."

As Buffy went into the locker room to retrieve the paper mask, she talked to the ceiling. She was a little concerned because the downstairs area was flooded in streams of sunlight, giving the place an open, airy feel. It was nice. And, if her husband and sunlight were on friendly terms, she wouldn't have batted an eyelash, "Spike?"

"Yes, Pet?"

Her voice was tinged with fear, "Are you painting in the dark?"

"Oh, Pet, you know me. I'm fast on my feet. And daylight hours have never been a deterrent for me."

Her heart jumped in her throat as she rushed up the stairs, "But Spike, the whole room is flooded with sunlight, not even you can move that fast!"

Buffy threw open the door of the spare room in their apartment, and gasped at the sight she beheld. Spike, dressed in painters' whites with blue and yellow paint splashed across the front of the overalls and on his face, grinning from ear to ear. But that's not what made her gasp. He was standing in direct sunlight, with no means of shelter in sight.

And he wasn't turning to ash. It had to be a dream.

A smirk played on his lips. He'd shocked her so thoroughly that she'd forgotten to breathe. Part of him was pleased that he could still take her breath away. His logical side won out as he put his hands up in surrender, "I told you I was going to have Georgina order necro-tempered glass for the whole place," he approached her slowly, "It came last week. They just finished installing it," he looked down bashfully as his hands traced up and down her arms lovingly, "Just because her Daddy is a vampire doesn't mean Jonina, or you for that matter, has to live like one. You both deserve to be in the sunlight."

The blur of tears in her eyes prevented her from seeing the beautiful fresco that was painted on the facing wall.

Buffy blinked to see the painting clearly. She stepped back to admire it, "Did you paint this?" she was captivated by its whimsy. His use of subtle light and shadow captured it perfectly.

He nodded proudly, pleased with his work, "That I did, Pet. Did I get it right? I wasn't sure about the shading but I think I got it right."

It looked so real she felt she could reach out and touch it, "Oh, Spike," she whispered, "Have you ever seen one of these?"

"Yes, but it was a very long time ago, Love. I was afraid I'd forgotten. My little girl will not be deprived. Her world will be bright. Not shrouded in shadow. I don't want that, for either of you."

Buffy gazed in awe at the delicate rainbow, against an azure sky, that spanned the breadth of the wall. Under the colors of the rainbow, just under the arch, he'd written the phrase, "Our love for you will last longer than the rainbows in the sky."

"Oh, it's perfect," she whispered.
************************

DECEMBER 2, 2028

Joni slowly led her mother up the stairs. She opened the door to her old room. The room she grew up in. Over the years, as she grew older, her rainbow had been painted over. But, a little paint thinner, and some Slayer elbow grease, had exposed a portion of the original fresco. The one her Daddy had put his heart in. The one that depicted something that he could no longer have but would not deny her.

Buffy walked up to the wall and touched it lightly with her fingers, as if the wall would evaporate if she touched it, just like the bridge of light and sun.

Joni saw the tears brimming over her Mom's eyes, and heard her croak, "Oh, Spike. I miss you."

It had been so long since she'd heard her mother's voice that Joni started to cry as well, "Mom," she asked, "do you remember what was written under the rainbow?"

Buffy only nodded.

"Our love for you will last longer than the rainbows in the sky," Joni said, "That's true for Daddy; and me too, Mommy. We both love you very much, and always will."
*************************

OCTOBER 17, 2005

The nurse smiled as the nervous father held his daughter, "I know it looks intimidating. All those wires and tubes shooting every which way, but her father's touch is the best medicine. And as long as you stay near the isolet, and mind the leads, she'll be right as rain, William."

"Thank you so much, Tasha. You're sure it's all right?"

"Certain sure, William," her eyes smiled at pure ecstasy on his face, "I'll leave you two alone," she said, as she went back to the nurses' station.

His fingers trembled as he held her. She was so small, but she was so strong. He could tell. That made him proud.

"Well, look at you," he purred softly taking in her tiny features. She was beautiful. Everything about her was beautiful. From her small fingers to her tiny toes, as she kicked against his palm, she was perfection. " I see you've got a strong kick, there. Take after your Mummy, do you?" his eyes swept over her reverently, "God," he breathed, "but you are beautiful. You're as delicate as a rainbow. I'm afraid I might shatter you," he studied her closer and noticed the broken blood vessels that caused an oddly shaped mark on her cheek. It was a battle scar. Her first, and he hoped her last. It was the only sign of her recent struggle for life. The nurses couldn't explain it. But it didn't matter. She was still here, "But that's nonsense, isn't it? You're strong, aren't you? You even have your first battle scar. Wear it proudly, little girl. You've earned it," his throat was raw with emotion, "And I know you can't see me under this mask. But, believe me, I'm grinning like a fool. You fought like a tiger, you did. I'm so proud of you," he placed his finger over her heart, and reveled in the strength of her petite heart. He let the sound vibrate through him and his eyes fell shut in silent thanksgiving, "You have no idea how much I love that racket you're making. You promise to keep it up, and we'll be just fine, you and I," it was then that he noticed that the mark on her face was in a familiar shape of a bird, "Oh, my God. It's you. You came," he gasped.
***********************

Chapter 29:

IN THE INTERREGNUM

Spike paced the vast emptiness. The very idea nauseated him. He looked at Joyce incredulously, “They can’t be serious! This just clinches it,” he ran his hands through his hair as he paced, “They are out of their minds!” he roared.

Joyce held her hands out, half in surrender, half in an attempt to contain the rage that didn’t belong in this place, even though she understood it completely, “Spike, please calm down. You make enough noise, you won’t stay here no matter how many angels you have in your corner,” Joyce took him firmly by the shoulders, forcing him to focus on her, “Do you really want to leave her, again?” she shook him roughly, “Do you want to go back there? You’ve been there,” she reminded him. She was certain he didn’t need reminding, but she also knew that, when it came to him, emotions could cloud everything else, “You know what Hell is, and how it feels,” she met hid glistening eyes, “and I know you don’t want to put Buffy through that.”

The mention of Buffy’s name seemed to ground him. And, he gasped in shock, “No! I don’t!” he hissed.

“…Because that’s what this would be,” Joyce could see that the steady rhythm of her voice was finally starting to calm him. All the rage left him, with one shuddering gasp, and he fell in a weeping tangle of limbs. As if he were a marionette whose strings had been cut. Joyce swept him up in her arms as if he were a small boy, “Buffy could have anything she wanted here,” she tried to comfort him, “But, she wants you. So, if you weren’t here? For her, this would be Hell.”

Spike sobbed out all the hurt he could never, would never tell Buffy about. He searched her face for some kind of understanding, “Joyce,” he choked, as another sob wracked him, “You don’t know what it was like in that place. It felt like years, Joyce. Hundreds of them, maybe thousands, before I saw her again,” the rage was shining in his eyes now, even as his body’s energy was spent. He was weary of the fight, and Joyce knew this, “And now, the Gods of bloody Mount Olympus tell me,” his voice rose to an almost deafening roar as he railed against the heavens, “They have the gall to tell me that I can save Joni, and Buffy, and the whole bleeding human race,” he sagged against her more, defeated, all his strength sapped. The sound in his chest became an echo of itself. It, and he, had been stretched too thin. So thin that when he did speak the sound hurled out into the void and shattered, “But if I do, I can never have them. Now they tell me that I have to stay in that place until I’m numb, and forget them. And not because of the hundreds of people I killed to survive. I have to stay in that Hell because of what I did to save Buffy. Because of my sacrifice, because I did what Angelus wouldn’t, I’m sentenced to Hell, but he gets to have them? He gets to dance with them in the daylight? He gets to sing our daughter to sleep at night? You tell me, Joyce. Please tell me how is that fair?”

“It’s not,” Joyce agreed, “The Higher Ups brought you in to try to show him what he could have been. But, instead of following your example, he let Holland turn his head around. He really is like every little emperor there ever was, isn’t he?” Joyce mused, “But, what Holland didn’t factor in, is the mother of one Buffy Summers-Dustin,” she slowly untangled herself from him and stood, “Do you think you can stand?”

He nodded, forcing tired limbs to move.

“Good, because we have a very important meeting.”

************************
JULY 10, 2012

Buffy could tell from his demeanor that the news wasn’t good. When Spike’s face looked like that, it could mean only one thing. Buffy knew that look, because Spike had worn it for almost a year now. The weight of carrying this had placed deep-set lines on that exquisite face.

Even through the heat of fever, she could tell.

Another Slayer had fallen ill.

Spike carefully shut the bedroom door. He would face Hell again before he let Jonina hear this. As he sat down on the edge of the bed, “Looks like you’re not as unique as we thought, Love,” he tried to keep the mood light, but it was difficult, as he felt her stiffen under the bedclothes. His eyes drifted toward the closed door, “That was the Nibblet. It seems Martha Glen wasn’t as strong as you are,” his eyes went down because he didn’t want to burden her any more than he needed to. But he also found it physically impossible to lie to her, “It took her,” he sighed. Sensing her dread, with a stiff smile, he quickly added, “But with the barrels of midnight oil that Dawnie and Illyria are burning trying to suss out this thing, and with me in it with both fangs.” He kissed her forehead, and the fever seared his lips, “It won’t be long before we find it. A good bit of Winifred is strong in Illyria. So with her, it’s like having two people for the price of one. So with all of us puzzling this out, one of us will hit on the answer soon,” his face grew shadowed, “I swear,” he whispered.

Buffy slowly closed her eyes at the rush of ice that spread through her fire engulfed nerves as he kissed her temple.

He shut his eyes against the tide of her pain as it shot through him, “I know that hurt, Pet,” he straightened up slowly as the sorrow and exhaustion pulled at him, “But, I’ve almost got it. I’ll get it. I’ll find the answer,” he swore as he shut the door and let Buffy fall into the mercy of sleep. He placed his hand reverently against the door and whispered, “If it takes working myself to a pile of dust.”

On his way down to the makeshift laboratory in the building’s basement, he stopped by for his nightly dose of sunshine. Nothing was a better motivator than seeing her. He cursed to himself. He really must be exhausted, because there was no other excuse for missing her accelerated breathing and heartbeat. She was awake. She’d had a nightmare, and he wasn’t there to shove the monsters back under the bed. He sighed as he tapped the door lightly, “Hey, Sunshine, what are you doing up?” he purred as he looked in on her.

He took in the dusky mixture of pencil lead and crayon wax as it wafted through the air and over his nose and mouth. She was an artist, his girl.

He stood motionless as gentle moonlight washed over her, making her delicate features seem even more so as she hunched over her little drawing table with her hair in her eyes. He could see the tip of her tongue as it slipped out from between her lips, trying to guide her hands as they put the wispy dream images to paper before they flew from her mind.

As she turned her head, her maple hair flashed gold in the moonlight. Her eyes were narrowed in curious contemplation of him, “Daddy,” Jonina asked, “do you have another face? Are you a monster?”

At first horror, then a quiet acceptance flooded his brain. There was no fright in her voice. There was only the quiet questioning of a precocious little girl, trying to define her world.

He came the rest of the way into her room and knelt down to her eye level. He reached over to turn on the desk lamp that was supposed to illuminate her drawing space, why she always chose to draw in the dark he would never know, and asked her, “Why do you ask, Dove?”

Joni shook her head quickly. Her Daddy tried not to show her, but she saw. She did. She’d hurt him by asking that stupid question, “No reason, Daddy. It’s just that, in my dreams, sometimes…” she drifted off, avoiding his eyes. She didn’t want to hurt him anymore.

“Sometimes what, Dove?” he prompted gently.

She bit her lip as she thought, bringing a tiny pinprick of blood to the surface. Just that small amount was enough to send the demon singing through him, and he had to avert his eyes or he would lose control of himself. He closed his eyes tight and tucked his chin to his chest.

Spike was disgusted with himself. He should never have allowed himself to become this exhausted. So deprived of sleep and nourishment that even his own daughter looked like a meal to him.

He really was a monster.

“Daddy, you looked scared? Are you all right?”

The soft, tender look in her eye, nearly brought him to tears, “Daddy’s just a little sleepy, Sweetling. Just like you should be.”

“But Daddy, the boogieman…”

Spike looked closely at his child’s face. In it he didn’t see fright. Instead he saw sadness. This wasn’t like her other night terrors, “What about the boogieman, Jonina?”

“Daddy,” she whispered as her little fingers traced his face. They traveled nimbly over his eyebrows and the arch of his cheeks, then down over the bridge of his nose. It was then that Spike realized what she was asking. She had seen a part of himself that he’d tried to hide from her.

She was asking about his demon. That could only mean one thing. She was a Slayer.

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He felt the sting and pressure behind his eyes.

“Daddy,” little fingers touched his face and her voice hitched in childlike fear. Her hero was scared and it was her fault, “Why are you crying?”

The sweetness in her face stung him, “Sweetling, tell me the truth. Did the boogieman look like me?”

She nodded slowly, “Yeah. But he didn’t have brown hair like yours. His was white.”
********************

OCTOBER 17, 2005

Spike placed her carefully back into her isolet. Bringing the little pink baby blanket up the her chin, “Rest well, little one,” he grinned at her under his mask, “I’ll take care of you,” his hand pressed against the isolet, “I promise, you won’t ever be afraid of me.”

Leaving the nursery, he shed the sterile garb that covered his street clothes and nodded to the nurses as he left.

He had promised to protect her, and he was going to do just that.
*******************

In a place as big as this Angel could get lost. And as long as he stayed in the shadows he wouldn’t be noticed, not by humans anyway.

He had counted on Spike being to preoccupied to notice his presence. He was wrong.

As Angel prepared to take the stairs down to the main parking structure, he found himself pinned to the wall with surprising speed. He blinked as amber eyes held him, “I can see that you haven’t learned your lesson,” Spike growled, “So, I’ll tell you straight, if that precious crystal in that bassinet, who for some reason, someone has seen fit to let me be a father to; if she even sneezes and I think you have something to do with it, I will kill you. I know you had something to do with monitors not functioning properly. I know who she is, and what you’re trying to do. I won’t let you near her. Do you understand me? I know how important that dove is in there,” his eyes narrowed, “And I know you do. She doesn’t need that burden. She’s had enough for three lifetimes, and she’s only three days old!”

“Spike, you don’t understand,” Angel said, “I’m trying to save you!”

“Well stop!” Spike commanded.
*********************

The phone rang in the Jennings Street dojo. Buffy checked the caller I.D., “Hello Giles. Do you have any news for us?”

“Yes, Buffy. Dawn has isolated the cause of Talitha Sands’s death.”

Buffy felt strangely apathetic, “Well? Shoot, Giles. It’s about time for another apocalypse.”

A heavy sigh could be heard over the telephone line, “Buffy, Talitha died of the same virus that killed your daughter’s namesake. The one we were all hoping wouldn’t come.”

Across the ocean, Giles heard the thud of a telephone receiver hitting the floor.
***************************************
 

Chapter 30:

NOVEMBER 10, 2028- NEW HOPE CEMETERY

Joni patrolled this cemetery last. Ever since she lost her Daddy, the nightly duty of patrol had lost its sparkle. Perhaps it was because she knew her Daddy wouldn’t be lurking amidst the mausoleums, his eyes glinting with pride, waiting to give her pointers he, and she, knew she didn’t need.

She was so much like her Mom. Her Daddy kept telling her that. For her, he said, slaying was like breathing.

If that was true, why did her chest hurt so much?

He even had a tombstone. He was just dust, like all the vamps she’d ever dusted. He didn’t need a marker, there was nothing to bury. When the end finally came, the sight had filled her with horror. One second, her Daddy was lying on his bed, his face a mask of pain, and the next, he’d dissolved into nothing but ash. All of the sudden he wasn’t there anymore.

It had all happened so quietly. Joni felt certain there would be some kind of noise. This was her Daddy, after all. But there wasn’t. He just left.

No, he didn’t need a stone. But he had one. Her Mom insisted on it. He wasn’t just any vampire, he was her husband, and he deserved some kind of acknowledgement.

As she walked closer to the part of the grounds that she dreaded, a fog seemed to roll in. It enveloped the whole graveyard, and made it difficult to see.

Joni squinted to see through it, and what she saw made her blood boil. Someone was there. She felt like screaming. But something stopped her.

There was something familiar about the man bent over her Daddy’s stone. The man that knelt there was lean and angular. Even under the ankle-length duster he wore to protect him from the early November chill, she could see he was lithe like a dancer.

But what made her heart skip a beat, was the white hair that cut through the blinding fog.

It was like something out of a dream. Or, maybe it was a nightmare, like something from her childhood. Before she was conscious of it, her feet were carrying her toward the thing that couldn’t be. The sound of her heartbeat rushed in her ears. It kept perfect time with her footsteps and the word was out of her mouth before she could stop it, “Daddy!”

Joni held her breath as the man turned toward the sound of her voice, and she was shocked to see her Daddy’s blue eyes meet hers. It was her Daddy. It was. And he was so real.

Then she blinked, and the magic ended. And it was Homer standing there taking care of her Daddy, just like he promised.

“Joni?” Homer asked, “What are you doing here this time of night?”

She lightly fingered the stake in her pocket as she watched the older man stand with difficulty. He stretched his muscles slowly, wincing as they protested, sending pain in response to his commands.

Joni smiled. Sometimes when she was a little girl she would play pretend and imagine what her Daddy would have looked like if he were allowed to grow old. And Homer looked just like that.

Joni could hear his bones creaking as he stood and she knew why she was here. She was here to protect men like him from evil things because he couldn’t protect himself. She shrugged in answer to his question, “Habit?”

There was something in the way he smiled that sang through her blood, “You don’t sound very convinced, little one.”

“Well I…” she stopped speaking when she saw him grimace in pain, and her heart seized. The empty feeling kept her still even though every nerve in her screamed at her to help him, “Are you all right?” she asked.

“Yes,” he assured her, “It’s just these old bones. Sometimes I feel older than I look. Is everything all right with you?” he glanced at the green patch in front of them. It had been solid green for weeks, and he was concerned. The marigolds had stopped. And he missed them, very much. “Is your mother well?”

She lowered her head, “No. She hasn’t been the same since…” she turned her eyes slowly to the stone.

Homer nodded, “I understand. When my Elisabeth left,” he mused, “I was never the same again. It was like all the light went out of my world and I knew I’d spent the rest of my days in shadow.”

“It’s like that for my Mom, too. It’s like she’s living in a constant eclipse,” she looked at Homer with a questioning face, “Have you ever seen an eclipse?”

He smiled a sad smile, “Yes. I’ve seen a few.”

“Well, for her, it’s like that. All the light’s gone,” Joni stifled a sob, “I don’t even think she remembers how to breathe. She’s so lost, and my Daddy wouldn’t want that for her. I know he wouldn’t. How do I help her?”

The plea in her eyes made him want to scream. But he had made a promise, “Tell me,” he said.
*****************************

DECEMBER 2, 2027-NEW ENGLAND

He’d brought them here so that she could see the colors. When she had her sight back, the first thing he wanted her to see was the color of the change of seasons. And she did. She saw brilliant oranges, fiery reds, blazing gold, cool greens and soothing white. She saw everything with new eyes.

Maybe that was because of the joy he took in watching her live again. Everything he did made her feel more alive, like she couldn’t breathe without him.

And now the light was dimming. Slowly, slowly down to dark. Now her world was greying out.

The grey light of morning was slipping through the window, but Buffy didn’t notice. She knew that these were her final hours with him. She didn’t know how she knew but she did.

She also knew that the Slayers owed their very lives to him. Again.

In the history books, the name William Alistair Dustin would go down with the likes of Jonas Salk. “Lace” had been eradicated due to the vaccine he’d developed. William the Bloody had, in the end, saved more Slayers than he ever killed.

Buffy cursed herself a thousand times for not listening to the Shadow Men all those years ago. If she had, then maybe Spike wouldn’t be lying in that room now, in so much pain it physically hurt her to watch him struggle. And he wouldn’t be struggling now, if it hadn’t been for her brilliant stratagem.

An army of Slayers; what a brilliant idea that was. If only she’d known. She would have saved him so much pain.

Spike always told her that she had a bit of a demon in her. He said that was what made her a good Slayer. And now thanks to him it was true.

Thanks to Spike, all of the Slayers had a bit of a demon in them. The demon was the key to the virus. It was what kept her alive.

And in return, she was killing him.

He once told her she was a little bit in love with death. He’d recognized it before she did because he was too.

Joni watched her mother shiver in the grey light that seeped through the haze of death that hung over the house. Daddy and she had tried so hard to make this a place of life and color. And they had.

As she went through the photographs of her mind’s eye, everything was saturated with such vibrant color. The life and laughter that she grew up with was so bright that the world outside paled in comparison. Her Daddy had done his best to make a world for her. A world full of the things he couldn’t have.

And now she wondered what would happen to that world once he left. Would it be dimmer, somehow? This house already was.

Joni slipped silently in beside her mother, and took her hand. Joni wasn’t even sure she had noticed. Her eyes never left the grey mist of fog that seemed to hang over the house now. She just stared out into space, her voice was stilted and raw, “He wanted you to have everything, Joni. He wanted you to have the best.”

“I did Mom,” she said in a hushed tone, “I had the best. I still do. I have the best, Mom. I have you,” her eyes bobbed on a sea of unshed tears, her Daddy wouldn’t want her tears, “And I still have Daddy.”

Joni could see the pain in her eyes as Buffy looked at her, “He was right, Joni. They all go by so fast, and it’s really not enough.”

“What isn’t, Mom?”

“The years. It’s not enough. We’ve been married a little longer than you’ve been alive Joni,” Buffy heaved a heavy sigh as tears rolled down her face, “Nearly twenty-three years, and it still isn’t enough. “Twenty-three years,” she shook her head in a wash of memories, “and in love much longer than that,” she slowly wiped the tears away, “Although you’d never know it from the way I treated him,” her eyes sparkled with a far away light, “I think I loved him the minute I s-saw him.”

“Daddy’s still here, Mom. You can still tell him,” she nodded toward his sickroom, “Daddy still loves you,” she choked back a sob, “Tell him, Mommy. Give him a reason. Please, he needs it!”

Her eyes widened with fright, “No Joni, I can’t go in there!” Buffy’s breath came in strangled gasps, “I can’t watch. Oh, God,” she gulped, “I can feel it. But, I can’t watch.”

Joni tried to keep the anger she felt in check. She had to remember that her Mom loved him too. This was just as hard, maybe harder for her Mom than it was for her, “But Mom, when you were sick, Daddy never left you. I was little, but I remember. He never left your side. He never left you alone.”

“I know,” Buffy sniffed, “I remember. But,” she could no longer hold the sob back, “your Father’s always been stronger than me.”

Her Mother’s weakness hurt Jonina in a place she didn’t know could hurt, “I understand, Mommy,” she lied, “I’ll go,” she said as she slipped into his room to say goodbye.
**********************

OCTOBER 17, 2005

Angel opened his eyes and everything hurt. To the people in the hospital, the confrontation in the stairwell may have looked like nothing more than a heated argument. The pain in Angel’s body however, said that it was something more.

Spike was giving him a warning. He loved that child. And he loved Buffy. He was putting Angel on notice. Nothing, not even the fires of Hell, would keep him from protecting the people he chose to think of as his family.

Because of that, people were going to die.
*******************

Spike was still trying to shake off the feeling of disgust that shrouded him after his encounter with Angel when he entered the Jennings Street complex.

It didn’t take long for his senses to tell him that something was wrong. They screamed at him as he raced to find Buffy, calling her name as he navigated swiftly through the twists and turns.

When he got to the point his heart led him to, he dropped to his knees in horror. Buffy was unconscious on the floor, the telephone receiver three feet away.

His mind raced. The first thought that flashed across his mind was Joyce. He’d known that Joyce had died quickly, of a brain aneurysm. She had died, and no amount of speed could have saved her.

If it had been anyone but Buffy lying there, his vampire senses would have picked up the steady pulse. But Spike’s brain had gone into sensory overload.

He took in the paleness of her face, and his world narrowed to the tiny rhythmic movement of the skin of her neck. The blood rushed up and back again to make its presence known, and he sighed with relief.

He didn’t sense any other injuries. She’d fainted.

When she moaned, he grabbed her up and held her tight, touching her face lightly as he sighed, “Oh bloody Hell, Love, if I weren’t already, oh God, you make a bloke’s heart stop, you do, what with the tricks you pull!”
****************************************

IN THE INTERREGNUM-HOME OFFICE

Holland took a deep breath. With a risk as big as this one was, failure was a possibility. He just hated broaching the subject with the Senior Partners.

He addressed the sea of charcoal suits, “Well gentlemen, it seems our carefully laid apocalypse, the one we’ve been working for eons to accomplish may have been scuttled by one little girl. It’s unfortunate. It may be time to bring out ‘Plan B.’ It is a touch more heavy-handed, but it gets the job done.”
 

Chapter 31:

Spike handed Buffy the glass of water. He let out a sigh of relief as the color returned to her face. He brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes, and a look of concern crossed his face as he sat near the edge of the bed, “Sip that slowly.”

Much as she loved being pampered and fawned over, she hated the look of worry in his eyes even more, “Spike, I’m fine,” she assured him, noticing the tremble in his hands as she held them, “I just didn’t have much of a breakfast,” when Spike’s eyes flashed in protest, she added sheepishly, “You know me, Spike,” she reached up to touch his cheek and smiled as he leaned into her touch, “I’m all about Hell gods and apocalypses,” she smiled coyly, ducking his gaze, “My day isn’t complete without a ‘Big Bad.’ But, I’ve been so worried about Jonina that I forgot to eat. Then Giles called, and everything crashed,” Buffy hated seeing that face grow more and more shadowed by the day. More and more like Angel’s. She shook her head, “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Spike nodded, looking deep into her eyes, “Bloody right it won’t. I’m making sure of that. We’re going back to hospital and letting the docs give you the once-over,” he put his finger to her lips when her eyes widened in protest and she took a breath to speak, “No arguments, Slayer. I’m deaf to them anyway, won’t help,” he took his finger away from her lips, and smiled when she brushed a kiss against the tip of his finger as he pulled it away, “ Then, once the doctors have had their say, I ‘m gonna have mine. I was going to be a doctor, you know.”

“No!” Buffy yelped in surprise, “Really?”

“Yes. And I have one prescription for you, Buffy. ‘Eat!’”
**********************************************

As he waited outside the emergency room for the doctors to examine Buffy, Spike knew he was being overly cautious, but he didn’t care. If he didn’t stay ahead of this thing, all the horrors that Pavaine had subjected him to would be more than a psychotic’s parlor trick. They would be real.

He remembered it all perfectly. The sights, the smell and the sound of it; he remembered it, still. As if he could ever forget. Pavaine was right. The soul that blessed him damned him to suffer. Even without it, its echo still rang through him. The things he’d seen would be his constant companions.

Fred once asked him where he went when he vanished from sight as a ghost. He never did tell her the complete truth of what he’d seen.

In their reality, he would disappear for minutes, maybe hours at a time, but for him it was days, even years, at a time. There were times that he wondered if he’d ever come back.

And now, it seemed as if the point at which he vanished was fast leaving the realm of nightmare and becoming reality.

He still remembered the little girl. She was such a sweet little thing, and so trusting. Now his Heaven and his Hell were starting to merge. For upstairs, in that little glass bassinet, that same little girl was fighting for every scrap of life the world could give her.
*********************************

OCTOBER 8, 2003

Only a moment ago he was standing in a laboratory, surrounded by faces he didn’t know, save for Angelus, and his was not a face he considered friendly in the least. Especially after what he did to Buffy, abandoning her to face the Hellmouth without his help.

He loved her? Huh. Yeah, right.

Now he was here, in what looked to be a child’s room, if the disgusting amount of plush toys was any indication. The room was darkened, but he could make out the painting on the wall. Bands of yellow, green, and, was that orange, stretched across a span of blue.

He knew this. That was a rainbow.

A child’s room; he was in a child’s room. A little girl’s from the looks of it.

But what was he doing here?

There was a tiny gasp from behind him. He whirled and met the wide brown eyes of a little girl. She squinted at him, and then looked at the closed window that held the moonlight out. Her large doe eyes slowly came back to his, and she clutched her tattered, floppy-eared rabbit a little tighter and moved him more toward the center of her body. She was using the toy as a shield, and her eyes were tearing up.

She was frightened of him. Something deep in him found that notion detestable. Something in him did not want this little girl to be frightened of him, ever.

He tried to swallow the screaming fear he felt and gave her a little smile. He noticed the bird shaped birthmark on her left cheek as she took a timid step toward him, “Why are you here?” she asked.

“I’ve been wondering that myself, Dove,” he said softly.

The little voice was more confident now, “My Daddy calls me that.”

“Does he now?”

She nodded.

“I see. Well, I can’t take your Daddy’s name for you away from him, now can I? I’ll just have to call you something else,” he went down on one knee, “What’s your name, Princess?”

She hid her eyes behind the fur of her stuffed toy, “Joni,” she said shyly.

“What a pretty name. A pretty name for a pretty little girl.”

“Pretty?”

Her eyes were so open and trusting, and her face was round and plump. She had perfect apple cheeks that were a complement to the ruddiness of her skin. Her hair was a mixture of light and dark. The natural lights of the honey strands were offset by the dark of cinnamon. The light from the window played in her hair, making her a strikingly beautiful girl, “I think so. How old are you, Joni?”

Her little chin jutted out in pride, “I’m five.”

“Well, aren’t you a big girl,” he looked softly up at her and pointed to the rabbit held tightly to her chest, “Does your bunny have a name?”

“Yes,” she whispered, “I named him after the Prince in my dreams. He saves the Princess.”

Spike smiled at that, “Well if he didn’t he wouldn’t be much of a Prince, would he? What is his name?”

There was the light of recognition in her eyes as she stepped forward again. Her eyes held a sad acceptance of him, “Will you save my Mommy, please? She’s sick. My Daddy’s sad all the time.”

His heart clenched. He was about to lie to this trusting little face. He didn’t know where he was or if he’d be back, but the pain on her face was more than he could bear, “I’m so sorry, Sweetheart. I don’t know if there’s anything I can do for her. But, if you tell me the rabbit’s name, I’ll come back whenever you need me, all right?”

“His name is Spike,” she said, “I named him after you.”
*****************************************

IN THE INTERREGNUM

Joyce knew he would be angry. But, he had to have a reason to stay. He’d given up everything for Buffy, and she appreciated his need to rest; to let it be over. She understood that. According to their timeline only nineteen days had passed. For him, though, the time had gone by so much slower. Where he was, where she’d pulled him from a thousand years could pass there before a day was ended.

Joyce knew he’d fight for her. So, she gently guided him to her. Then, she would let the father and daughter bond do the rest. Joni would have to keep him alive until he could pay her back for her kindness.
****************************

Spike’s Hell wasn’t the fire and brimstone type. Oh, he’d been there, sure enough. He’d even felt the flames liking his skin. He felt himself melting away.

That he could take. What he couldn’t stand was knowing that both his girls were compromised. The only thing that gave him any peace was making sure Buffy was taken care of.

With that in mind, he placed a plate full of food in front of her as they sat in the hospital’s cafeteria.

Buffy looked across the table at his expectant eyes, then down at the plate, which she was sure was full of perfectly good food, but the food looked like a pile of unappetizing sludge to her, “Spike,” she begged, “please don’t make me eat this. I can’t,” she grimaced as she pushed the food around her plate, “Can’t I just go home?”

“Nope. Not until you get at least some of that into your system. I don’t want to have to worry about you, too. Jonina needs her Mummy.”

“She needs her Daddy too,” Buffy sighed, looking into his drawn face, “How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

He smirked at her, “Ah, but I’ve got a strong constitution, Love. You know that. This isn’t about me. You’re the one who’s important here,” he pushed the plate further toward her, “Eat.”

Buffy grimaced again as she shoved a forkful of mashed potatoes and gravy into her mouth, “Happy?”

Blue eyes rolled skyward as he grinned, “Blissfully.”
*******************************************

Ever since the battle with the Circle of Black Thorn, Holland was Angel’s constant companion, someone he couldn’t get rid of; like Angelus. Holland kept popping up to remind him what kind of a failure he was. It ate at him and wore him down, like it was doing now.

It was bad enough that he was still nursing the bruises that had started appearing on his skin after the confrontation in the hospital’s stairwell. Now he had to deal with this as well, “What do you want, Holland?”

The grey haired man shrugged, and then winced at the unsightly purple around Angel’s neck, “Does that hurt? It certainly looks like it does. But then, you can’t see it can you?” he shook his head, “I really would hate to be on the receiving end of Spike’s wrath. Imagine what he could do to you if he really tried.”

“Spike can use me as his personal punching bag if he wants. The alternative is not something I want to think about. I’ll ask you again. What are you doing here?”

“Just here to make sure our champion is still on track.”

“Spike will be fine,” Angel said bitterly.

Holland nodded, “Yes. I’d say we’re right on track.”
*******************************
 

Chapter 32:
“Spike,” Buffy protested weakly, “I’m the Slayer, remember? I can go without sleep and still be up for an apocalypse. This is just silly. Jonina needs me.”

“Yes, she does need you. And she needs you healthy. Not many Slayers are lucky enough to have children.”

Buffy dropped her eyes. She didn’t want to see the concern that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his eyes, “You mean most don’t live that long.”

Buffy heard the stress for her come out in his voice, “Please, do this for me. You sleep, Love. Just sleep. You need it. I don’t ask much, Buffy. Do this for me? Sleep. I’ll take care of everything else.”
*********************************

He listened to the steady hush of her breath as she slept. Hearing it gave him the peace he needed. The peace he hadn’t really had since a little girl’s grief pulled him through space and time to comfort her.

At the time, he wasn’t sure of anything. He’d accepted his fate. He’d jumped into oblivion with a sneer. He wanted to see how it all would end.

Thanks to a little girl, he did. And he would do whatever he had to do, to change it.
********************************

IN THE INTERREGNUM

Joyce knew that there would come a time when she’d have to pay for meddling with his fate. But if she didn’t Buffy would be lost.

Joyce had been with her in the Hellmouth. She was with her the second she realized her love. She was with her when she cried at night as her heart bled for him. It bled, and Joyce knew that if the bleeding wasn’t staunched, her little girl, and her future would die and the world would be left without a protector.

Joyce couldn’t allow that to happen. As she watched things unfold, she saw her opportunity. True, she may pay for this later. But, as Spike was sure to find out soon enough, there were worse things than Hell.
******************************************

MAY 21, 2003- 6:45 A.M.-SUNNYDALE CRATER

Watching her sister dig in the sand and debris was heartbreaking. The wind was still, and Dawn wished it would gust because if the wind were roaring in her ears, she wouldn’t be able to hear Buffy sobbing. Maybe if she couldn’t hear her, it wouldn’t be true. Maybe then, Spike wouldn’t be dust.

Dawn didn’t know what to think. She knew that Buffy’s hope was fading as the sun crept brightly over the horizon. Dawn knew that she would never hate her name more than she did now.

It was awful, “Buffy, please climb out of there,” Dawn saw the sun slowly coming over the horizon and heard her sister’s desperate pleas for the one she lost; the one she thought of as a brother, and who died thinking she didn’t love him.

Dawn felt the tears coursing down her face as she looked at the lightening sky, and silently asked for his forgiveness, “Buffy, the sun is coming up. He’s gone.”

“He can’t be, Dawnie,” Buffy sobbed as she kept digging. She looked at Dawn with eyes wide, in desperation, “You didn’t see him climb out, did you?”

Dawn shook her head, “No.” she whispered.

But, Buffy hadn’t heard. A glint of light had caught her attention. She reached for it and found the amulet that Spike wore around his neck; it’s gaudiness glaring happily at her from under the sand.

That was all that was left. Suddenly the horror struck her. He was gone. And in her frenzy, she had disturbed his resting place.

She picked up the jewelry that at once became her most precious possession, and put it lovingly close to her heart, making sure he was safe before she started her climb out of the pit.

In death she finally acknowledged the place where he’d been for longer than she’d ever expected. Maybe from the very beginning, “I’m sorry Spike,” she whispered, as she prepared to start the life that he had died to give her.

She reached the rim of the crater just as the sun came up full in the sky. She looked at her friend’s shocked faces and handed the amulet to Giles with shaking hands. Her throat was raw as the words came, “Giles, Spike is gone,” she choked on the grief looking at her friends, who just hours ago seemed to have forgotten him, “Are you happy now? Are any of you?” Buffy took one last look at the amulet in Giles’s hand, “Giles,” she said as she watched the sun glint off the glass he held in his hand, “That is a murder weapon. When we get to were we’re going, send that thing back to his murderer.”
**************************

OCTOBER 15, 2003

Spike listened to the little girl sobbing, and wished he could hold her, “Joni, I know it hurts. But sometimes Mummies get sick. That happens,” he shook his head, sadly watching her little chin quiver, “Oh Sweetling, don’t cry. Please?”

He saw the longing in her eyes. She wanted to run to him and have him hold her. And he wanted to hold her. More than anything else in the world, more than he wanted to see Buffy again, he wanted to hold this little girl. He wanted to hold her and tell her that everything would be all right. He wanted to make things right for her.

She seemed to read his mind, “But, you can save Mommy,” she sniffed, wiping the tears away with the back of her little hand, “You can. The Prince always saves the Princess.”

“I know, Dove. But…”

“My Daddy calls me that,” Joni interrupted.

Spike berated himself. He didn’t want to break her trust. He didn’t know why he was here, but as long as he was, he didn’t want to cause her any hurt, “ I know. I’m sorry.”

Joni turned to face her closed door and held her rabbit tightly as she mumbled, “My Daddy’s with Mommy. He always is.”

“I’m sure he is,” Spike said.

Her voice was so small that Spike could barely hear it, “But he forgot me.”

Spike shook his head, his voice gruff with denial, “No, Joni. Don’t you think that. I’m not a Daddy, but I know that Daddy’s don’t forget their little ones.”

Joni turned to face him, “Daddy?” she asked in awe.

“No Sweetling,” he said, as his heart broke for her.

“Yes,” she insisted, “I know you. You’re here to save my Mommy. You look funny. But, you’re my Daddy too.”

Spike tilted his head in thought, “What’s your Mummy’s name?”

“Mommy.”

He smiled at that, “Of course it is, that was silly of me. What does your Daddy call Mummy?”

Joni’s face scrunched in thought, “He calls her Buffy when he thinks I’m asleep.”

His eyes twinkled, “What’s your last name, Sweetling?”

“Dustin.”

Reality hit him, and he turned toward the little girl’s door, dreading what lie behind it, “Oh, God,” he gasped, “Buffy…”
************
 

Chapter 33:

As he watched her sleep, Spike shook off the ghosts of his past. He watched as her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm and her face was in peaceful repose. Now, she looked like the angel she was. He would do whatever he needed to do to keep her safe and protected.

Anything, including learn from his past. He wasn’t sure how it was happening, but somehow, something or someone was giving him a chance to save Buffy again. And he would be a fool not to take it.
*******************

OCTOBER 15, 2003

It wasn’t until she spoke again that Spike realized that he wasn’t alone.

“Daddy?”

Her sweet little voice brought him out of one horror and sent him spiraling down into another. He turned to her, and for the first time in decades he was glad he was dead. The weight of worlds was on that little face. She trusted him. God help him, she trusted him. He would do whatever he needed to do to be worthy of that trust.

He knelt down in front of her again, “Sweetling,” he said softly, “where is your Mummy?”

“Don’t you know?” she tilted her head in a familiar way.

“No. Baby, I wish I did. I want to help. You know that, right?”

Little fingers twitched as they reached out to him, “What happened to you, Daddy?” she whispered, her fingers inching closer to his face. Suddenly her breath caught, “What happened to you, Daddy? Your face…?”

This was just another torture the Fates had concocted for him wasn’t it? It wasn’t enough that he couldn’t rest. They couldn’t just leave him between Heaven and Hell, able to see, hear and feel every emotion imaginable, but still unable to touch or feel anything; they had to make sure he scared the one person who somehow kept him tethered to Buffy.

His demon had obviously surfaced, and due to his ghostly existence, he was unaware of it. He just couldn’t take hearing another little girl screaming in terror at the sight of what he’d become. There were already too many to count. His soul would break if hers were a voice added to his private symphony of terror.

He closed his eyes, waiting; bracing himself for the scream he knew would come. He waited. It would come. They always did. He’d been a beautiful demon. He’d prided himself on the fact that he could charm the smallest of them, his victims, into trusting him. Then, just before the kill, he’d make the wail in fright. It was so good then. The terror made their blood run hot in his throat, made their blood sweeter than honey.

It was good then. But it wasn’t now.

So, he waited.

And he waited.

But, it never came.

“Daddy,” that sweet little voice was a miracle to him. She wasn’t scared of him at all. And, as he looked into her eyes, they seemed older then her five years. It was as if she knew all that he’d been through. Her eyes told him that she would be with him to help him through things he had yet to see. She seemed to have seen too much for as small as she was. She’d been through things and she would help him see where he had to be. “I want to know what happened to you,” she nodded toward the world outside her bedroom door, “He won’t tell me.”

He smirked at that. If her Daddy was who he thought he was, there was no doubt in his mind that he was tight-lipped about who, and what, he was, “I’m sure he has his reasons, Sweetling. As for me, there is too much to tell,” he smiled wearily as he watched her rub her eyes with her tiny fists, “And you, little girl, are much too tired. Go to sleep now, and Spike will take care of everything.”

Her lips pouted, “But I’m not tired. My Daddy never tells me what happened. I’ve seen you before. I know you. Tell me.”

“You’re too young to see the things I’ve been through, Princess. Too young to know what I am, what I’ve done.”

“But I have. My Daddy doesn’t like it when I tell him the things I see in my dreams,” she lowered her eyes, “I think I scare him. I think he’s afraid I’ll get sick,” she raised her eyes again, and Spike could see the wave of tears in them, “like Mommy.”

“I’m sure your Daddy loves you very much.”

“I know you do,” she said.

Spike lowered his head, overcome with emotion, “I do,” he confessed, unable to deny any longer what his heart knew, “I’ll take care of you. Now go to sleep, Joni. I’ll watch over you.”

He followed slowly after her, as she climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, “Promise?” she asked as she held her toy rabbit close.

He fought the lump in his throat as his fingers ached to pull the wisps of hair behind her ear, and his lips longed to kiss her monsters away for her, “I promise.”
********************************

IN THE INTERREGNUM-

“This isn’t just about Jonina. It can’t be. One little girl cannot cause a dimension this much chaos,” Spike said as he paced waiting for his meeting with the Higher Ups, “There has to be more to it,” he bit his lip, “If I could just suss this out, it would make sense. I just haven’t got all the pieces yet.”

Joyce nodded, “You’re right. This is about more than Joni. So much more than that little girl, that’s why I had to keep you alive. You’re too important to leave Joni now,” she lowered her eyes, not wanting to see the concern and the determination to do what she knew would break even him, all for her sake, in his eyes once he saw how and where he fit in the scheme of things, “I’d go to Hell because I know that you are the one to save Joni.”

His eyes blazed at her, “They’re not thinking she’s responsible for this,” he hissed, “Are they?”

“The balance that Willow changed has to be restored. Joni put things into further chaos,” Joyce saw Spike’s eyes flare and his jaw twitch as he fought the wave of fury, “And she’s not the only one,” she said softly, “I had a hand in this too.”

Spike gasped in horror, “No Joyce you didn’t.”

She nodded, “I did.”

“I want that meeting you promised,” he said, “Now.”
***************************************

 

Chapter 34:
SEPTEMBER 18, 2027-

Willow left the room with a heavy heart. He’d begged her not to tell them. He’d said it was enough that Buffy and Joni had suffered so much when Buffy was infected. Spike said he didn’t want them to suffer any longer because of him.

Spike had begged her to downplay the effect “Cassandra’s Lace” was having on him, if for no other reason but to honor his love for his wife and child.

Spike was playing dirty pool. Willow knew it, and so did Spike. Willow owed him a debt she knew she could never repay, and Spike knew that, and now her debt had come due. This was dirty pool.

It was true. She owed him. But she owed Buffy too and it wasn’t fair to keep this from Buffy.

The conflict within her made her heart heavy as she gave the girls the news. She’d respected his wishes for months, even though the look in Buffy’s eyes told Willow that she knew what was happening, without being told.

For months, she stayed mum. But she couldn’t stay quiet anymore.

Buffy heard the door open, and was in front of Willow before she got the door closed again, “Willow, how is he?” She was frantic, as the images of Spike collapsing from exhaustion at her feet, flashed through her mind.

Willow took a deep breath. She was exhausted from the strain of trying to reach Spike, as she had once done with Buffy, through the illness and pain, “Buffy, it’s all through him now,” she blinked away the tears, “The pain Buffy, you know it.”

“Yes,” she whispered, “I remember.”

Willow looked back at the door behind her, and thought of the strong hero lying behind it, “Well, you know what happened to the Slayers, and how fast it happened, before Spike developed the vaccine,” she hid her eyes from Buffy. She didn’t want to tell her, not only because of her promise to Spike but for selfish reasons as well. She didn’t want to cause Buffy any more pain, and deep down, Willow knew that Spike’s illness, and Buffy’s and Jonina’s pain, was on her head, “And he’s been fighting for a long time. He didn’t want to tell you how much this thing had really wore him down.”

“But why Willow? Why would he keep this from me?”

“Buffy, think about it. You had just started to recover. You were getting better, and he was so happy. He didn’t want to burden you with what he’d done to help get you back.”

“But I should have known,” Buffy was only now beginning to feel the pain Spike had been shielding her from. Now that he was unconscious, there was no way to keep it from her, “Willow, we’re connected,” Buffy felt her throat tighten and she could barely speak the words, “Now more then ever. I should have known. I should have felt it. How could it be this bad and I didn’t know?”

“Because he didn’t want you to know. He can be very stubborn,” Willow looked at her friend’s grief-stricken face, and pulled her into a hug, “If he wasn’t, I’m almost sure I’d be talking to him right now, and you would be lying in that room dying…”

“Dying?” Buffy gasped as she pulled away from Willow’s embrace, “He’s dying?” she shook her head in fierce denial of what she already knew was the truth, “But he can’t be. Not him Willow. No, he’s just tired. No,” she looked at Willow with hope shining in her eyes, “You’re wrong, Willow. In a few days, he’ll be fine. He just works too hard.”

Willow hated seeing the hope slowly draining out of Buffy’s eyes, “No, Buffy, Spike won’t be fine. He saw what ‘Lace’ was doing to you, and to Kennedy, and Faith. He knew what it could do to him, and he still made the choice. Buffy, he didn’t do this for you.”

The look of hate that passed over Buffy’s face almost made Willow wince, but she continued, even though the tide of emotion she felt when she’d connected with Spike’s mind, made her breathless, “He did this because he couldn’t watch you die again,” the press of his emotions was overwhelming. Willow had seen what Spike had gone through that horrible night. She had seen, and heard, the torrent of grief as it poured out of him. And now she’d been witness to the feelings, as if they were her own, as well.

Willow was surprised when the sadness she felt was only able to manifest through the solitary tear she felt sliding down the ride side of her face. With the force of what she felt from Spike, nothing else but gut-wrenching sobs would do it justice, “Believe me, Buffy. I was there, before, and I know what it did to him,” she pulled Buffy into another embrace, “He wouldn’t have been able to go on if it happened again.”

Joni’s sobs were heard in the quiet room then, “Then if he doesn’t want to hurt us, how could he let himself get that sick? Why doesn’t he fight?”

It took all of Buffy’s composure not to slap her daughter’s mouth. She walked up to Joni, and in a controlled rage, spat out, “Jonina Irene Dustin, because I know how much you love your father, and I know you’re hurt, I will let that go. You are never to even suggest that your father is weak, in any way, again. Do you understand me? You don’t remember what happened to you when you were a baby. I hope you never do. But I will not have you deny him this. He will be spoken of as a hero, from this point on, and only a hero. Is that clear?”

Joni bowed her head in shame, “Yes, Mommy.”
*********************************************


IN THE INTERREGNUM-

“You are an insolent child.”

He couldn’t help it; the chuckle was out of his throat before he could stop it. They may be all knowing, but that statement proved that the Higher Ups were slow on the uptake as well. He now knew why they’d backed his Grandsire for a hundred years, “Where you been for the last century?” he growled, “This isn’t exactly news to anyone who even took a passing interest in what was going on down there! Yeah, I’m stubborn. And, I’m rude, and a few other things that would cause your angelic ears to burn,” he looked over his shoulder at Joyce, who despite her best efforts to hide it, was smiling. He took that as the encouragement he needed, “And let’s call a spade a spade, you need someone who won’t give up.”

“But child, what you ask, it goes against the natural flow of things. It just simply is not done.”

Spike smirked, “Now you’re getting it. I’m bad. I’m rude,” his eyebrow quirked in defiance, “And, stubborn as Hell,” he looked back at the three women he loved most in the world, “And I will not have anyone I love, especially not Buffy or her Mum, subjected to that sort of punishment simply for doing what it is that Mums do best. I will not have either of them punished for simply loving a child, and wanting to protect that child.”

“You would not?” the spirit inquired.

He stood firm in his answer, and nodded, “I would not.”

“You speak of love,” the spirit continued, “yet there is no reason for you to speak in this manner. The other spoke of love as well. The one you’ve raised, she has torn countless dimensions with her love. Is this the kind of love you speak of, vampire?”

It had been eons since Spike had been reminded of what he was. And the reminder stung him. His mouth had gone dry in fear for her, “No,” he choked, “what Joni did wasn’t love. That was an act of desperation,” he looked back at Joni and Buffy as they held each other, “I know what it means to be that desperate. I don’t blame her.”

“You would have her endure the punishment, then?” the spirit asked.

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.

The spirit was infinitely patient, " 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.

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

He left her to sleep. There was no point in disturbing her. The only thing that would give him any peace now was seeing her. As he drove to the hospital, he wondered if he was placing too much of a burden on that fragile little soul. How many other little girls were their parent’s sole reason for being? He knew he was being unfair to her, but he had never loved anything, Buffy included, as much as he loved her.

Jonina was the first thing he’d touched in ten decades that wasn’t tainted, in some way, by death. Somehow she awakened something in him that he thought was lost. She awakened the part of himself that he had buried when he rescued Buffy from Drusilla.

She was his soul. Together with Buffy, she made him live and breathe again. And that made her precious to him.

As he watched her sleep, he contemplated how his past and his future were on a collision course, and he touched the glass of her isolet reverently, “You don’t know what I’ve been through, to be your Daddy. But some day, Jonina, I hope you know how much I love you,” he tilted his head as he took her in, “And I hope some day you’re proud of me.”
*******************


As Angel lurked in the shadows, watching Spike bound with that child, he only hoped that, one day, he would be forgiven for what he was going to do.
 

Chapter 35:

NOVEMBER 10, 2028- NEW HOPE CEMETERY- NEW ENGLAND

As the images of her mother’s grief flashed through her brain, the feelings Joni thought she was dealing with so well came up from where she buried them. She didn’t think she’d missed her Daddy this much. With her Mom in the hospital, crushed under the weight of her grief, Joni had to be strong. Someone had to take care of the boogiemen. Someone had to protect people like Homer from the things he couldn’t know about, so she pushed the grief down under her heart, where it didn’t hurt as much, and went on.

And now, an old man’s request made her realize just how much she missed her Daddy. She missed him, and for the first time in months, she felt it. And she cried.

Homer let out a sigh of relief when he heard the sob in the little girl’s throat, “That’s it, Jonina. Let it out,” he whispered, as he moved closer to her, “Let it all out.”

Joni suddenly realized what she had done. She’d broken a promise and given a stranger something that was private. Something that was the only thing she had left to give her Daddy. All she had left to give him was her tears, and now she didn’t even have that because she’d just given her most precious thing to a total stranger.

And that made her angry.

She wiped the tears away from her face furiously, “I wasn’t supposed to do that,” she croaked.

The emptiness in her voice nearly broke him, “Why not?” Homer asked.

Looking at the kindly old man’s face only made the betrayal of her father sting Joni more, “Because my tears belong only to my Daddy. You can’t have them,” she sniffed. As she looked into his smoke-blue eyes, she suffered even more. Ever since her father had died, every pair of eyes she looked into looked like his somehow.

“I’m not taking anything from you, Sweetheart. I’m trying to help you.”

The quizzical tilt of his head as he looked at her made the tears start flowing again. Why did this stranger have to remind her so much of what she knew her Daddy could never have?

“I’m sorry. I know it’s not your fault. I just realized now how much I missed him. There’s so much I would do differently, if I had the chance.”

Homer nodded as his attention was drawn back to the tombstone in front of them, “I know the feeling. I know it well. It sounds to me, as if your father was very loved. And I’m sure, if he could, he would tell you he loves you.”

Joni felt a pain in her throat as she said, “You mean loved. He’s dead.”

The gardener’s breath caught as if she’d struck him. Joni looked and saw pain flash in the old man’s eyes, “No,” he said slowly, “I mean loves. Don’t you know love is eternal?”

Joni let out a sigh and whispered, “My Daddy was too. Once.”

“What was that, Sweetheart?” he asked as he eyed the stone intently.

“Nothing,” Joni mumbled.

His eyes seemed to twinkle in the darkness as he stood next to her. Joni didn’t know why, but it made talking to him more comfortable.

The next words out of Homer’s mouth made her heart skip a beat. He made her feel like her Daddy was close enough to touch. It sounded so much like him that she almost giggled, “Let’s play a game,” he said.

“What?” she nearly laughed.

Homer smiled, “Humor an old man, would you,” he tapped his temple with his left index finger, “This is a thinking game. Maybe it’ll get your mind off the grief for a little while.”

“Okay,” Joni smiled despite herself, “I’ll play.”

“Good,” he smiled, “Have you ever felt déjà vu? Like you’ve done something before, but you knew you had not?”

“Yeah. It happens all the time.”

“Yes,” he smiled, “it does. It happens to me too. More as I get older, for some reason. Do you believe in an afterlife? Perhaps a deity of some sort?”

Joni had to think about that one. With all the things she’d seen, and with what she knew about her Mom and Daddy, she knew that there were so many unexplained things in the universe that they all just couldn’t be random. There had to be a reason for all of it. Plus, she remembered the stories that her Mom used to tell her, about Heaven, when she was a little girl. Her Mom believed. So, why shouldn’t she? “Yes, I do,” she said.

Homer’s eyes twinkled like stars in the dark of the cemetery, “Well,” he asked, almost conspiratorially, “what if, when all was said and done, someone you loved or someone who loves you, were given the chance to fix things that they’d done wrong? You said yourself that you would do thing over, do them differently, if you could. What if your father got the chance to do things over?”

The gardener’s eyes seemed to glow brighter as he asked her this. She wasn’t sure why, but it seemed to Joni that her new friend was trying to convince her it could be possible, “ It is a nice thought,” she sighed, “A very nice one, in fact. But, you didn’t know my Daddy. I think he’s used up all his chances.”

“All of them, are you sure?”

She smiled sadly, “I’m pretty sure,” she said as she thought about how her Daddy seemed to be able to charm anyone out of anything. He certainly had her wrapped around his little finger.

She was a Daddy’s girl, even now, “But,” she mused, “if it could happen, my Daddy would be the one who could do it.”

“He was special then?” Homer asked.

“Very special,” Joni chuckled, “And, if it were even remotely possible for him to do it, to come back somehow, and he knew how much my Mommy and I missed him, I have no doubt that he would do it.”

He stepped closer to her as he said, “You are a very special young lady. I’m sure, wherever your father is now, he would want you to know he loves you.”

Joni let out a shuddering sigh, “Thank you for helping me through this. That nice thought makes missing my Daddy hurt a little less,” she kissed Homer lightly on the cheek as she turned to leave the graveyard, “It’s nice to think that maybe my Daddy can see me.”

Homer watched her leave, and his heart felt light and saddened, all at once, “I can see you, Dove,” he whispered.
***************************

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