Title: Gold and Grace (Chapter Thirty-five - Meant to Be)
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)
Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at) yahoo.com
Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren’t me. :::sigh::::
Summary: Fred studies the inner workings of high society in Sunnydale. The team sent to seek out the Master approaches their target. Spike and Emma arrive in the place where souls go to rest.
Gold and Grace
Fred sat on the couch, analyzing the mystical force field surrounding the houses and watching children play on the living room floor in front of her. Takina was hastily setting up supplies knowing one or more of the rest would come back a bit worse for wear. That was the way of their world.
Anya, the Vengeance demon, Fred remembered, was asleep in a most non-vengeful manner, curled on the opposite couch with a small child wrapped under her arm. This was a strange little universe that this group had created. Sort of the perfect microcosm of how a prejudice-free society *should* function. Not that there would ever really *be* such a thing. But it worked for this group.
From what Angel and Wesley had said, it hadn’t always been that way. Amazing what giving a Slayer a chance to grow up would do for the world perspective of her and those around her.
Fred cocked her head as Oz strolled into the living room, a small child tucked against each hip. A Werewolf, she thought, doting on his cubs. “I thought you guys were staying at the other house?”
“Nah,” Oz answered, setting the twins down on the floor and resting on the arm of an overstuffed chair. “Tara’s on the Master Hunting team and Willow’s working the mojo. Thought these two might want someone to play with.”
With a giggle, Loki began a steady toddle towards where River and Will sat on the edge of a throw rug, talking in words and gestures that only they understood. Out of the corner of his eyes, Will saw Loki approach, wobbly on new-found legs, and threw his arms around River, pulling the little girl towards him just as Loki fell flat on his face.
Oz chuckled, climbing after the now whimpering boy as Fred watched on. “Oz?”
“Yeah,” Oz answered, amiably.
“Are they … I mean have they… Are they always like that?” Fred asked, nodding at Will who had River completely protected and tucked away against his body.
Another chuckle from the Werewolf. “What, you mean like tiny grown-ups?”
Fred nodded. “And the way he is with her. I’ve been watching them all morning. They talk in these … I don’t know… I keep thinking there’s a code… and they touch and hold and he’s always watching over her and… How can kids know that?”
“These kids?” Oz answered. “I’m thinking there’s got to be a lot of innate instinct when you get humans and … non-humans together.”
“Do they ever … I don’t know. Can Spike’s kids like… Vamp out? Or do yours…?”
“Change at the full moon? Not so far. Although we have caught some floating stuffed animals, so they may have gotten mojo from the other side…” Oz snickered.
“And what’s with the way Will acts? I mean, he’s not really like a kid, you know? I mean, he has fun, and he’s happy and *so* sweet, but he’s…” Fred stammered, watching Will and River return to their cryptic conversation.
With a sigh, Oz flopped back down in the armchair, watching Kali and Loki begin to chatter and play with the myriad toys on the floor. “You didn’t know Spike back then. Or Buffy. Or … it’s odd. If you watched the way Spike was with Buffy, that’s the way Will is with River. “
“All the time?” Fred asked, eyes wide.
“The kids or Spike and Buffy?” Oz replied, grinning.
“Spike and Buffy.”
“Hell, no,” the Werewolf answered. “But when it comes down to it…”
“And Will?” Fred queried, watching as River began to get sleepy and toppled forward to rest her head on Will’s legs.
“He’s more serious than Spike, although who knows what Spike was like when he was a kid. Most of us think that, even though Emma is destined to stop all the bad stuff and Buffy and Spike are the One and there’s a new prophesy every Tuesday, it’s Will and River that are just… meant to be,” Oz stated, watching Will shift against the wall and rest his small hands on River’s face, watching over her as she slept. “Kinda funny, actually, being that Xander and Spike spend a lot of time hating each other. Or at least used to. Now they just play at it for old time’s sake, but I’ve seen them acting like old pals on poker night.”
“You have poker night?” Fred asked. “How much to buy in?”
“Fifty bucks and a drive up from LA. We’re not mobile.”
A bright smile from the pretty science geek. “I’m in.”
~~~@~~~@~~~@~~~
“I don’t think anyone’s home,” Gunn commented as the rag tag crew stood in front of the garden gate of Crawford Street Mansion. “Wouldn’t be a bad place if it weren’t so… creepy.”
“No one will take it off the market,” Xander answered quietly. “I keep telling Spike and Buffy that they should buy it and I can fix it up. A lot more room when all of us get all stuck in one house because of the bad guy du jour.”
Wesley nodded. “It would not be a bad idea, in reality…”
“Can we stop hawking real estate and figure out what we’re going to do about our new friend?” Cordy chimed in, her voice annoyed, but her hand still tucked inside Angel’s. “I’m really not in the mood to explain to anyone’s S.O. why I’ve got your blood on my shirt.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Xander snarked, taking a step back as both Angel and Cordy shot glares at him. Okay, so he was figuring out the games they liked to play while desperately avoiding that moment of happiness thing.
“I think we should just… go in,” Angel finally surmised. “I don’t hear anything. We may as well find out what he’s got in his lair that might lead us to …”
“Oh, that’s brilliant,” Cordy interrupted. “Stroll right in because we don’t *hear* the silent Vampire people and get ambushed before I can even get in the proper horror movie scream.”
“She… she’s right,” Tara added. “I can put a protection ward on all of you, but I can’t hold it strong enough if all of you get attacked at once.” The shy Witch looked down at her feet. “I…I’m not Willow.”
“You’re you,” Xander chirped, rubbing the girl’s shoulder. “And that’ll help a lot.”
Tara smiled and looked at him from under lowered eyelashes. “Thanks.”
“I can help you, Tara,” Wesley encouraged.
“I need you for magical firepower inside,” Angel countered. “And I’ll need Xander and Gunn to back me up.”
A female voice cleared. “And moi?”
“You stay out here and make sure nothing happens to Tara,” Angel commanded, letting her hand slide from his.
“I can take care of myself, Angel,” Tara answered quietly, not entirely sure she could hold a protection spell on them all and be aware of what was walking up behind her.
“But Willow would be quite cross with us if we allow you to come to harm,” Wesley agreed. “I do think Angel is right in this scenario.”
“But,” Cordy complained, wanting to be in on the action and wanting even *more* to be in there watching over Angel, but knowing that they were probably right. Cordelia herself had promised Willow that no harm would come to Tara. It wouldn’t be right to go back on that promise. “Fine. But you,” Cordelia continued, turning her gaze on Wesley, “You’re the only other even half-way sensible one here. If you let him, or any of the rest of this group of idiots do *anything* so stupid that *any* of them don’t come out…”
Tara chuckled under her breath; Wesley rolled his eyes. Gunn smiled, patting Cordy’s shoulder. Xander kissed her cheek. “Yes, mom,” her ex-boyfriend and now friend joked. “We dumb-asses will be just fine.”
“I’ll be sure to use my head, Cordelia,” Wesley chided, squeezing her hand before walking towards the door followed by Gunn and Xander.
“And you,” Cordy snapped, grabbing Angel’s hand and tugging him back to her. “Don’t get all dusty on me. “
“I know,” Angel answered, smiling. “You can’t afford the back rent.” With that, he leaned down and captured her lips with his, feeling her smile into his mouth.
“And I might just miss you.”
~~~@~~~@~~~
Spike awoke as if from a deep sleep. It was not the sort from which one feels rested, rather the kind after one shakes off a dream or a nightmare.
He unfolded from the crouch in which he’d awoken and stood in the white mist. It was familiar here, even though he wasn’t sure if this was a place to which he’d ever journeyed before. This was where the souls slept, he thought. Spike supposed that everyone had been here at one time or another.
A gentle hand twining through his brought his senses to a focus. Turning his head, he saw the waifish, elegant young woman he knew was his daughter in the form in which he’d first met her. Her true form.
“Hello, father,” that rich, almost English accent cooed from behind a smile.
“Why d’you always have to be an adult here?” Spike whined. “Don’t have long enough with you as a tot as it is.”
Again, the girl smiled. “I do not change in the other realms,” Emma answered simply. “I am who I am.”
Spike thought on that a moment, remembering back to Africa when Buffy’s shadow had said the same words. Had Emma been there then as well?
“I’ve gotten used to thinking of you as mine,” Spike answered, letting her tug him forward through the mist.
“That I am,” Emma answered. “Although I am the daughter of the Queen of the Sky, I am the daughter of the King and Queen of your realm as well.”
Spike quirked a brow, not quite sure he understood.
“That would be you, father. And mum,” Emma clarified, amused by his confusion. “You hold more power than any other mortal or half-species. You rule your world as the Sky Queen rules this.” The girl gestured her free hand to the mists around her. “You both hold dominion over your courts with love and grace. Although I’d hazard to say that there is a bit more of the latter here.”
Spike chuckled. “Don’t always do it pretty, Mite. We just do it well.”
“That you do,” Emma conceded. She was quiet for a moment. “You know, father, the Queen of the Sky and her King rarely appear to anyone on the mortal coil, nor do they allow mortals into their palace. That is a gift of honour reserved for her court and those she protects, as you and mum protect the world around you. There is grace in that gift.”
The Vampire wanted to snark something about how no one graced him with their presence, but he *did* feel honoured that the rulers of this world believed in he and his love enough to guide them, and trusted them enough to nurture their most cherished possession – Emma.
“We should go now,” Emma encouraged, pulling Spike from his reverie and beginning to walk out of the mists. Spike merely nodded his reply.
The landscape changed as they walked – misty white to opal to sky blue and hazy purple. Rainbow shadows danced unnaturally in their wake, taking on a life of their own. Emma strolled the path as if it were the one leading from their house on Earth to Harris’s, sure and undaunted and completely familiar.
The sky changed again to a shimmering gold, fading into a muted bronze as they approached an opening in the mist. “We are almost there, father.”
“What should I be expecting?” Spike asked, tensing, taking his daughter’s hand again, this time in protection.
“There is no violence here,” Emma soothed. “There will be no battle.”
Spike’s brow furrowed. “Then why did we leave Buffy…”
“I was being truthful,” the young woman interrupted as they stepped completely out of the mist and onto what seemed to be rich soil, the colour of brown sugar. The landscape became neutral – browns and tans and golds in matte textures and quiet tones. Thousands of golden clouds hovered just above the soil, suspended for endless acres as far as the eye could see. On each, there was a shimmering body – not quite human and not quite corporeal, but solid enough to see and understand.
“Is this..?” Spike asked, studying the field around him.
Emma nodded. “The place where the souls sleep,” she answered. “Where one goes to wait.”
“Wait?” Spike asked.
“One is born, or hatched, or *gifted* to one dimension or another in one form or another. No matter what form one is given, it is eventually taken. Some species, like humans, are reborn for only short periods. A century or less. Others inhabit their shells for millennia. But there is one certainty. Every one of them, eventually, ends up here.” She paused, scanning the golden clouds.
“When one ceases to be in their plane of existence, they are delivered to either my Queen or to one of the lands below,” the girl continued.
“Hell,” Spike contributed.
“One of many. As well as purgatory, which is really just a place where people go to wait while the content of their souls is weighed and measured.” Emma began to walk forward again, searching the clouds for something, although Spike wasn’t quite sure what she was looking for.
“When one goes below, they are kept there for eternity – unless they are rescued,” Emma chided, bumping hips with her father. “Or, as in your case, it was a mistake.”
Spike quirked his brow. “Thought that is where I was meant to end up.”
Emma shook her head softly. “Had you fought your destiny and remained a Vampire with no conscience and no heart, possibly. But you were always Fated for this place, as is mum.” Another long pause as they walked through the field. “When one is brought here, the outcome is different. The Queen, the Goddess, as Aunt Willow refers to her, believes that good souls should be recycled. That their wisdom and their kindness make the mortal planes more inhabitable. So those souls that still have lessons they can learn, and wisdom to impart, are allowed shelter in the Heavens for a period, and then come here, to the place of rest…”
“Before they are sent back to the mortal planes,” Spike completed, all of it suddenly making sense. “Like summer holiday.”
“A bit,” Emma answered, smiling. “Once they’ve returned and learned all that the mortal planes have to offer, they can stay in the Heavens, or explore other planes of existence, if they wish. Until that time, however, they are required to return.”
“How many times does it take to learn it all?” Spike queried, watching the shimmering forms sleeping soundly on their beds of clouds.
The girl chuckled. “That is dependent upon the soul. There have been those who have had thousands of incarnations and are still waiting here.” She gestured around at the vast plain. “And there have been children who have lived only days on the mortal coil and have returned to us and never had to go back again.”
“Days?” Spike asked. “Tots?”
“Sometimes the wisest of all are the smallest,” Emma answered, stopping and sighing.
Spike nodded his head. “A lesson I’ve learned in my own house.”
A shy grin broke on perfectly balanced features and blue eyes sparkled against golden skin. “Thank you, father.”
“You and your brother,” Spike corrected. “Both teach me something every day.”
“As do you,” Emma conceded. “We should have found her by now.”
Spike looked around at the clouds. “Not sure exactly who or what we’re looking for, Mite.”
Emma sighed again. “I was being truthful,” she began again. “About mum. It would not be fair to ask her to make this decision.”
“What decision? Not sure you’re telling me the whole story, Tot. Know we have to talk to the soul meant for your little sis and convince her to stay here.” He stopped, a pang of fear shooting through him. “Nothing bad will happen to her when we leave, will it?”
Emma shook her head. “No, father. Depending on the Queen’s wishes, she will either stay here and wait for another form in which to be born, or she will be allowed rest in the Kingdom for a while longer.”
With a sigh of relief, Spike relaxed. “Then what would make your mum so upset?”
The girl was quiet, eyeing something over her father’s shoulder. A form stretching from her place on the cloud and standing, approaching the pair with slow, solemn strides. “Because mum will want her back…”
Spike followed his daughter’s gaze, turning slowly and facing the vision in front of him
There stood Joyce, tall and beautiful and smiling. His friend, his confidant and his lover’s past and once-to-be future. And he was going to have to break her heart.
“Were you looking for me?” The woman asked, hopefully.
To be contd.
Title: Just Beyond Sense (Chapter Thirty-six - Meant to Be)
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)
Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at) yahoo.com
Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren’t me. :::sigh::::
Summary: Spike begins to tell Joyce of his mission, with Emma’s help. Angel and his team enter the Crawford Street Mansion and find out that something evil lurks beneath.
Just Beyond Sense
Spike stood stock still, staring at the golden apparition before him. Why he didn’t expect something like this, he couldn’t say. It was never easy. Couldn’t be the soul of Riley Finn or something that he could just say ‘bugger off’ and choose a new one.
Had to be someone he loved.
Had to be someone who deserved to have her family back.
“Joyce?” Spike said softly, reaching out towards the woman. With a smile, she returned the gesture, wrapping her hand in his. It wasn’t so much as a touch as she wasn’t quite real. She wasn’t quite… there. It was more of a warmth, a feeling, than contact.
“Spike,” the woman responded. “How are my girls?”
It was the Vampire’s turn to smile. “Beauties, as always. Dawn’s getting married, less that wanker does *one* thing wrong in the meantime. And Buffy….”
“Another baby,” Joyce answered, beaming. She looked around Spike at the elegant young woman in his wake. “That can’t… how can…”
Spike craned his head and chuckled, taking his daughter’s hand and pulling her to his side. “This is Emma. Though back home, she’s a right bit smaller.”
A shimmering golden hand pressed over a ghostly mouth as Joyce’s eyes filled with tears. “I remember seeing… God, she looks just like…”
“Like Buffy,” Spike completed, squeezing his daughter’s hand. “Bit taller, from the looks of things.”
Joyce chuckled. “She has your eyes, though.”
Emma took a step forward, feeling that familial connection without ever truly knowing her grandmother, and wrapped her arms around the woman. “Thank you.”
A gulp and tears welled behind not-quite-eyes. “For what, Emma?” Joyce answered, running her hands over the girl’s golden hair.
“For my family. Were it not for you, my mum would not be the woman that she became. My father might not have had a chance. And my brother… he would not have even…” the girl continued, clinging to the woman, trying to take what may be her only opportunity to tell her grandmother she loved her.
“You know?” Joyce asked, pushing the girl back to look into her eyes. “How do you know about Will? About…”
“She’s a native, Joyce,” Spike interrupted, watching the scene with rising emotion. Knowing what was coming. “An emissary – a daughter – to the pretty bird that runs the show here.”
“The Sky Queen?” Joyce asked. “You’re…”
“Hers. As well as theirs,” Emma answered, nodding at her father. “I am Peace.”
A furrowed brow and Spike began to think of an explanation for what his daughter had said. Instead of a question, however, Joyce merely answered, “I know.”
With all that lay in front of them the Vampire felt that now was not the time to press further. What one knew, what one saw, after spending time in this place… there was no way to quantify. And Emma… just being near her, one could tell she truly was Peace.
Another tight embrace and Joyce tugged Spike in with them. Her touch was a tingle, a warm glow. The feeling he had when he was alone with Buffy just holding her hand, or telling bedtime stories with Will curled up under one wing and Emma the other. The feeling of hot chocolate with little white…
‘Hot chocolate with the white petals in the dark brown. Sweet like a girl’s blood.’ Dru’s voice ripped through his addled mind. ‘A golden soul with tips of roses.’
“She knew,” Spike repeated under his breath.
Emma turned her head and smiled sadly. “She knew many things, father.”
“Who?” Joyce asked, loosening the embrace but not letting go of either one. “What?”
With a sigh, Spike took a step back. He couldn’t accept that warmth, that home, knowing what he had to do. “Drusilla,” he answered quietly.
“Drusilla?” Joyce asked. “Is she… back?”
Spike shook his head, waves of grief that he hadn’t had a chance to feel welling up in his chest. “She’s gone, Joyce.”
“Oh, Spike,” the woman whispered, understanding even now the connections the held people together. Love. Grief. Forgiveness. She pulled him back against her, wrapping those warm, soothing arms around him and he almost allowed himself to grieve.
Almost.
With a gasp of effort, Spike pulled back again and looked the kindest woman he’d known since he’d looked upon his own mum. “She told me things, Joyce. Things I think you need to hear.”
A flash of worry crossed the eldest Summers’ face and she crossed her arms against a chill that only she felt. “What is it Spike? Is it… Is Buffy…Is it the baby?”
Spike nodded once, trying to look away. But Joyce deserved to be met eye to eye. Even if he was going to break her heart.
~~~@~~~@~~~
Tara knelt in a dark corner of the courtyard outside of the mansion, sprinkling herbs around her in a circle and chanting softly. Cordy paced behind her, watching the darkness like a lioness guarding her den.
“You done yet?” The prom queen asked, her voiced laced with annoyance and concern.
“Almost,” Tara answered quietly, “I need to concentrate.”
“Wesley always says that too,” Cordelia huffed. “It’s supposed to just go Presto-You-Have-A-Magic-Shield”
With a chuckle, Tara wrote off Cordy’s aggravation as the concern she knew it was and let it go. “Just a moment more.” Another series of chants and Tara tossed a handful of sage into the candle flame in front of her. “Protectus.”
A white light glowed around her and Cordelia felt it surround her as well like a warm, blanket of light and heat. “Tingly.”
“A little,” Tara conceded, concentrating, but more relaxed now that the spell was cast. “Shouldn’t get in their way.”
“Let’s hope to God it *does*”, the dark-haired beauty snarked in response.
~~~@~~~@~~~
“Quite effective,” Wesley commented, shuddering as the ward wrapped around him. Ahead of him in the darkened hall, Xander shook like a dog, and then settled back into stride. Gunn did a spine-chill dance and calmed immediately. And Angel just shrugged.
At least it had reached them all.
“I don’t see anything here, big guy,” Gunn whispered as they walked down the corridor toward the basement. There was no sign of habitation on the first level and Angel thought it the best bet to try downstairs, where there was no light, as the second avenue of search.
“It... it feels wrong,” Xander considered, hefting the battle axe over his left shoulder and checking for the stake in tucked in the back of his jeans. “Like…”
“Like everything is just below the surface,” Wesley commented. “Just beyond our sight.”
Angel nodded. “Spike had mentioned that this Master had Powers that were… different.”
“Disguising an entire household, though?” Gunn asked, sticking close to Angel’s back, the four of them huddled together like a pack with Angel in the lead.
“I don’t know if they could disguise everything,” Wesley answered. “But it’s certainly possible to place a glamour over what they do not want us to see…”
“Can we … un-glamorize it?” Xander asked, shivering again.
“Do we want to?” Gunn added, chuckling a little.
“Point taken,” Xander shot back.
“If you two can’t shut up…” Angel snapped. “Wesley, do you think you can pull off the dust cover and see what’s underneath?”
“Simple enough to do,” Wesley answered, feeling the energy pool in his body as he began to concentrate. “Although there is a certain level of truth in what Charles was saying. Are we truly prepared for what lies beneath?”
Angel turned and the other three stopped shortly before colliding with him. “We’re here to take out the Master that threatens my line, not to tiptoe around like some bad Scooby Doo movie.” With an inhalation of needless breath, he faced Wesley and continued. “Do it.”
The Watcher nodded and took a deep breath, pooling power until it bubbled from his body. He could feel Tara struggle to hold the ward, feel what he was doing, and let go long enough for Wesley to spout one word.
*Illuminata*.
Tara snapped the ward back into place as the power bubbled forth from the man and all that they saw around them reshaped. Dusty rooms became epic halls. Empty chambers became full of laughter and the sounds of Vampires supping. Dingy grays and cobweb filled blacks became crimson and marble and stone.
The three humans pressed closer together.
“How come I feel like I just walked into the lion’s den?” Gunn asked, looking around, horrified.
“Uh, cause we did,” Xander agreed.
“Actually, we’re in no more danger than we were before we saw it. Less even. Just because we couldn’t see them….” Wesley commented.
“The old dog with his head under the pillow defense,” Harris commented, nodding. “Thinks just because he can’t see *you* you can’t see *him* even though his whole big, hairy bottom is hanging out from under the pillow.”
“Crude, but precisely,” Wesley answered.
“So, boss, what do we do now?” Gunn asked, feeling the darkness of the creatures beginning to close in around them.
“Uh, fight?” Angel answered as several of the doors into the corridor opened at once and a dozen yellow eyes stared at them from all angles. “Well.”
~~~@~~~@~~~
Joyce sat down again, her feet dangling above the brown sugar soil as she rested on her cloud. “What is it, Spike? What’s wrong?”
She patted the cloud and he settled down next to her. It felt like one of those comfortable foam beanbag chairs that the kids had. Soft and squishy and like one could sleep away their days in it.
Sleep away their souls.
“New tot,” Spike began. “One that’s on its way.”
How did he do this without flat out breaking her? And let it be her choice?
“Dru told me before she di…Before she … went away, that the soul that would be… her… well…”
“Is me,” Joyce completed. “I know, Spike. The Sky Queen asked me if I’d go…”
Spike’s eyes widened and he looked at his daughter for the courage to move on. Emma nodded, sitting down behind Spike and resting her head on his shoulder, filling him with her calm. “Remember a while back, Joyce, daft bloke named Luke and an evil bastard… Gwydion.”
Joyce shook at the sound of the names. She didn’t ever remember meeting them, but their names, their darkness, scarred her very soul. She nodded in reply.
“The two of them have started a little movement to get at us. You see, it’s not really good business for the hell dimensions to have Emma here in existence, what with the ending all the wars and bringing peace. Sort of cuts down on the damned souls. So, they’ve made it a personal mission to try any way they can to get at the tot. And at Buffy and me because they know that to get near her, they’ll have to take out both of us.” Spike paused, taking a deep breath and watching Joyce’s face. It was torn between a smile and a frown, twitching from one to the other in the blink of an eye.
“She couldn’t be better protected,” the woman finally commented.
Spike nodded. “Won’t let a creature of heaven, hell or anywhere in between lay a hand on my girls,” Spike preened, puffing out his chest. The gesture reminded her so much of the blustery Spike she’d met long ago, she had to smile.
”And I am guessing your trip up here has something to do with these two…. morons,” Joyce commented. It was Spike’s turn to smile. He loved how Joyce could turn a fairly mild jab into a razor sharp insult just by the glint in her eye and the tone in her voice. Buffy had the same talent, although not always the same grace.
“It does,” Spike continued, the cheer disappearing from his voice. “When they took you, Joyce, when they… defiled… you….” Anger bubbled to the surface as he thought of her helplessly being guided to harm her own. “They left a mark.”
Joyce nodded in response. “I feel it.” Instinctively, she turned to Emma. “Will it always be there? It’s like a dirty spot on my good china.”
Emma smiled sadly. “No grandmother. It will fade over time. And it will have no effect on you or on your family while you are here.”
It was almost as if cartoon light bulbs had shuddered to life above both sets of heads. Spike was amazed that Emma had phrased it so simply and with as little pain as possible. Joyce’s heart dropped out of her chest, realizing what the child’s words meant.
“While I’m here,” Joyce repeated. “In other words….”
Spike shook his head. “We can’t… I can’t… tell you what to… God, Joyce!” He stood up, punching the air in front of him like a petulant child. “I don’t want to tell you…”
“But it has to be my choice,” Joyce answered, all the pieces coming together.
Spike nodded, feeling the anger mixing with the grief that was bubbling with frustration to a fine mixture of emotional breakdown.
“What if I say no?”
To be contd.