For years he was alone. It had taken time, perhaps millennia, but he had put the warm things that haunted him away. They were just dreams. And, his world was no place for dreams. His world was wild and savage, as was he.

But now, something was amiss. The sounds were wrong. The warmth was where it should not be.

He’d learned to live in a world that was toxic and harsh. In his world, there were deadly things everywhere.

Where he was, warm things, things soft and small and sweet, did not survive. They were rare, and precious, but he had them, once. He’d tamed the world for his little bit of light. They were fleeting, and warm.

But warm things didn’t belong in the world he came from. They withered and died. He’d seen it, watched it happen, and when it did, it made his eyes wet.

One horrible day, the warmth and light of his world left, and never returned. And, he was cold, in a way he hadn’t been before.

He’d lived with the pain, the cold, and the emptiness of life in the only place he’d known.

Then he awoke to sights and sounds that had followed him into his sleep for hundreds of years. Awoke to things that made his eyes wet, and his quiet heart ache. To things that a beast like he could never, should never have.

His eyes opened to the pleasing darkness, and for an instant, he thought something from his dreams had taken pity on his lowly form, and sent him back to what he knew.

Once, he did dream. But, dreams were painful. He didn’t dream of light and soft anymore, and yet, he felt it near- and it frightened him.

This world was so frightening. Even the strange skins the angel had given him to cover himself with, were unnerving to a body that was no longer accustomed to them.

Somewhere in his heart, he knew that wearing them would be pleasing to her, so he wore them.

His eyes fell upon the angel beside him. Her eyes were closed in sleep. And even though the things of this world he’d been thrown into were still traumatic for him, he would not wake her. He had conquered a dangerous world, on his own, and he would do so again.

His eyes scanned the dark, and found the sweet familiar-the dream. If the warm things came to this world too, then he must have been brought here to protect them.

And, his instinct took over. It drove him from the angel’s side. As his feet hit the hard surface over which the angel slept folded softly against him, he quickly donned the odd skins that he had discarded, and set out in search of the warmth- of the one thing in this world that he understood.

He was old, very old. But somehow, even though this little ray of light was changed from what she had been, from what his dreams recalled to his mind, she was still so young and beautiful; and still his. In this world that was so strange and foreign to him, his heart was incredibly thankful that she was here.

He ran his fingers against the soft skin of his youngling’s cheek. She was so soft and warm, that he nearly sobbed. And, when the little one stirred, opened her eyes, and graced him with a smile, the awful tightness that had settled in his chest in all those years of loneliness broke and became tears of gratitude.

“Daddy,” she whispered, her voice was ragged with sleep, “please stay.”

It had been so long since he’d heard any sounds but his own, that the sounds this little bit of warmth made, he did not understand, and that frustrated him very much. But, he did not need sounds to understand her. He could feel the air around his child vibrating with fear, and although that vexed him, his heart was not discouraged, because he knew that, with time, he would understand again. He knew that he would grow to trust again.

He sighed, and nodded. Dutifully, he stretched out beside his little one as she lay on the ground of this little box with the bright bands on the wall, and held her until she stopped trembling.
****************************************************************

Buffy knew, as she drifted off to sleep with him beside her, that it would be a long and difficult road, for all of them.

So, when she awoke to find that Spike was not with her, she was not worried. She felt him near. Jonina was here, so chances were that, if Spike weren’t with her, he would probably be with Joni.

She was, after all, the only thing in the world right now, that he recognized and understood, unquestioningly. Even if he could not understand her words, as she spoke to him, he understood her, and that she was his.

Love could do that. That is what kept Buffy’s hope alive, in the week since Spike had miraculously returned from the Loterminenthalogcial dimension that Giles said was called X’yxerth. The place that Wolfram and Hart had “inadvertently” banished him, and their little baby Joni, to.

Love was what was now flowing through her veins. Love, in the form of a vaccine, that made her immune to a virus that could have been devastating to the Slayers, but was not, thanks, in no small part, to Spike’s efforts and his sacrifice.

It was love that kept her at his side, and sent Dawn all the way from Rome with her dose of the vaccine, because she refused to leave him alone while he was so fragile. Her love for him made her know that one day soon, she would be able to reach him.

She knew that one day, she would be able to touch him again.

It was this feeling of love that compelled her to put her robe across her shoulders, and pad her way slowly down the hall, to the room that, only days ago, was a nursery without a little girl.

But now, as she slowly opened the door to that nursery, she could feel that it was full to bursting with love.

She watched, and her heart swelled, as Spike held Joni close to him. She could hear a soft, contented purring coming from deep within him.

Spike sensed the disturbance in the air, caused by the open door, and looked up at her. Without thought, he growled a warning, and held Joni’s sleeping form closer to him.

Buffy smiled as she cautiously stepped into the room. Her eyes never left his, and her tone was soft and unthreatening, “It’s all right, Spike. I won’t hurt her. I understand,” she said, as she walked around to the right side of him, where the floor was bare, “Is it all right if I stay here, with you?” when she did not find him resisting her closeness, or her touch, she slowly lain down beside him, spooning against his back, and lacing her arm, loosely around his chest, as he held Joni next to him on his left, “I love you, Spike. And Joni. Thank you so much.”

As she fell asleep with him in her arms, she knew it would be a long road. But she also knew that, however long it took for him to get there, for him to meet her again, she would be there to catch him if he fell.

“Giles, there has to be a way to help him through this. I can’t just stand by and watch him suffer!” her terse whisper filled the empty dojo. She’d crept down here to talk to Giles. Right know, he was the only person that she thought might understand what Spike was going through, other than her, of course, and he was thousands of miles away, in Rome, “Sorry to wake you, Giles. But, I had to talk to someone.”

Giles’s kindly voice came through the telephone receiver, “It’s no trouble, Buffy. And, you didn’t wake me. It’s the middle of the afternoon here.”

Buffy was confused, “Huh? How’d that happen? It’s three a. m. here.”

The voice in the other end of the telephone was quiet and calm, “There is a considerable time difference, Buffy.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling a little foolish, “I forgot about that. Thanks for letting me call collect, by the way.”

“As I said, it’s no trouble. And, I do understand your frustration. But, until he can communicate- and tell you what he needs- you’ll just have to be patient, Buffy.”

“I know that, Giles,” she kept her voice low, trying desperately not to wake him, as she spoke her fears; fears that she knew Spike would do anything he could to assuage. And I really wish he could, right now, “But…oh, he must be so scared. When he looks at me…it’s like, he doesn’t even know me. Like he hasn’t seen me in a million years. It’s almost as if I’m a dream, or something. I don’t even know how long it’s been for him. I don’t know what it was like. I mean, I had the Slayer dreams, and there was Homer. But, that was magic…right?” she swallowed the tightness in her throat, and tried not to cry. She knew that the battle with her tears was a battle she would not win. At least, not tonight, “That wasn’t real. I wasn’t really there. I don’t know what it was like. I can’t know. How do I reach that, Giles?”

“Buffy, there is nothing to do but wait. From what Liam has told us, that place is a kind of Hell. He said that he saw things there- saw death- that he couldn’t begin to describe.”

Buffy snorted hotly, “Liam Donovan. That’s what he’s calling himself now? Well, not to me. To me, he’ll always be Angel. Nothing can change that. And, to Spike, ‘Liam Donovan’ doesn’t even exist,” she laughed mirthlessly, “For him, Angel never existed. If he remembers at all, all he’ll remember is Angelus. You know, Giles, he wakes up screaming…I know he’s scared. And, when he can’t tell me what he needs…” she sighed, “Oh,” she began to sob, losing the tight control she had over the emotions that she’d pent up during Spike’s long absence, “I can see the pain, and it just kills me that I can’t help.”

”I’m sure he knows,” Giles’s voice was soothing to her raw heart, even from thousands of miles away, “I’m sure that the very fact that you are trying to reach him means…more than he could even articulate, in the best of circumstances.”

“I hope so, Giles,” she sighed. As she sat crouching behind Georgina’s desk, trying to shut the world out, she ran her fingers through her hair, in a last-ditch effort to keep the feelings from overwhelming her, “Thanks, Giles. Thanks for saying it. I hope it’s true.”

“It is, Buffy,” Giles said, softly, “Things will work out, Buffy. Goodnight, Buffy.”

“Goodnight, Giles. Well…Good afternoon…Tell Dawnie I love her, and Spike does too,” she sighed, as she stood to hang up the phone.

As she hung up the phone, Buffy let the tears flow. And, she felt the loss she wouldn’t speak. The one he couldn’t yet speak.
*************************************************************

He looked his little girl over with a careful eye, and did not see anything that would send his body reeling with the echo of an unknown hurt. He knew this feeling, though he hadn’t felt it in years, not since the warmth of his world had left him, he did know it.

The jangling of the nerves along his spine and the ache in his belly came when she was hurt, when she needed him. And, although his keen eyes told him that the little one had changed amazingly little-since he’d seen her last- it must have been centuries, and how that was even possible he did not know, but could only assume a spirit or deity had smiled on him, there was nothing that would cause this.

There was no reason for his spine to be tingling. There was no reason, that he could see, for his whole body to be on alert. She was not injured.

But, he could hear the sounds of distress. The ache within him continued to grow, and drew him from the familiar smallness of her and down into the unknown.

Spike quietly descended the stairs, his eyes open and alert for the source of the pitiful sound that was causing him unbelievable pain.

Even though there was pain, the action of tracking was a comfort to him. He’d done this before. It was something he knew, and that was a rare thing in this world of strange things.

That was when he found her. And she was beautiful.
***************************************************

Buffy was huddled behind Georgina’s desk, sobbing her heart out. Sobbing for all the pain she knew he’d been through; the pain she knew she couldn’t take away. She sobbed until her head was throbbing and swamped so much she couldn’t hear.

Her body began to shake and jerk with grief. The throes of sadness were so powerful that she barely noticed his gentle arms holding her.

She didn’t notice the gentle soothing sounds that drifted into her ear. They weren’t words. But, words weren’t needed, here.

Suddenly the shaking stopped. When she looked up, to find the reason why, what she found were two beautiful blue eyes.

Eyes that Buffy thought she’d never see again. Eyes that loved her, she knew it, when they didn’t know anything else.

The soft, constant roll that cascaded over her skin was a comfort she needed. It was the kind of comfort she wished she could give him.

The easy sounds of childhood issued from him as he held her, “Shhh….” he told her, “shhhh…”

“Spike,” Buffy whispered, “do you know me? Oh, how do I tell you…?”

The sounds she was making matched the ones from his dreams. He had practiced them for a while, until the darkness came, and they became hurtful. But now, as he pulled away from her, and saw the darkness clouding her face, he reached from deep inside, and remembered; trying to mimic the sounds he knew once.

Buffy was afraid that he would never hold her again, when she felt him pull away from her. She searched his face, and saw his eyebrows draw together, and his mouth pulled down in a tight frown. His eyes glinted with a look she knew too well.

We don’t need words for this, do we, Spike? I know that look. That’s frustration. You wanna tell me off? Tell me to go away…? Tell me how * I’ve * failed * you * this time. Tell me how much you hate me. Tell me something…anything…please?

Buffy thought that she must have said what she had thought aloud, because, without prompting, sounds that she could almost recognize, began coming from him.

“MMmmm…”

Buffy was shocked, “What, Spike?” she whispered.

Spike shook his head furiously, and lowered his chin in concentration, “MMmmm…”

Buffy nodded, in gentle encouragement. Baby sounds. Baby steps…Of course.

The sound came again, “MMmm…” shining, questioning eyes looked up at her, and her throat tightened enough to choke her, “…ine? MMmm…ine? Mine…?”

Buffy’s heart broke open in joy, “Yes, Spike!” she sobbed, holding him tightly, “Yours…! Yours…only yours…!”

Buffy blinked. She suddenly felt dizzy, and she could see blue and white lights blinking behind Spike’s head. For a brief moment, she thought that she might faint.

If I were going to faint- this would be a good reason to. I can’t believe he’s here.

The look of triumph that suffused his features was enough to make her want to jump up and start twirling with joy.

She felt giddy, when only seconds ago she would have swooned. And as he took her lips in the most tender and powerful kiss she had known in her life, she noticed a small fiberglass Christmas tree in the corner of the room. That, she discovered, was the source of the happy blinking lights.

Is it Christmas? Oh… She felt like a Goddess, when he was kissing her. The feel of his lips was like velvet to her. …it doesn’t matter. It could be the middle of July…it would be Christmas here. I have what I want. I have everything I could ever want.

She had never before been kissed like this. Angel had never kissed her like this, not even after he’d come back from that Hell dimension. Spike hadn’t even kissed her like this before. Not when she’d been brought back from Heaven, and not on their wedding night.

He kissed her as if she were the most precious thing on earth. As if he’d dreamed of this moment, of having her in his arms, for years. As if he’d seen it, so many times, but having it now, was like holding sunshine.

There was desire, and longing, and sadness on his lips, as she tasted them. All his need, all his fears, and hopes were here in this kiss. And, it was bittersweet.

And, it made her cry.

He must have tasted the tears, because he pulled away from her, not far, just enough to see her eyes, and his head leaned quizzically to one side. The love that poured from his gaze made her gasp.

The loose fabric of the karate uniform he was wearing brushed briefly against her face as he wiped away the water droplets with the knuckles of one hand as he turned his fingers inward to caress her face. His forehead rested against hers, and she watched his azure eyes shimmer, as a look of anguish settled on his face.

Buffy knew she shouldn’t be crying. She knew that he wouldn’t understand the concept of “happy tears.” She knew her tears would hurt him, they always had. Even when she thought she hated him, she knew that he could never stand to see her tears.

But now, she couldn’t stop, “Oh Spike,” she murmured, “I love you…I love you…” Buffy closed her eyes and brushed her cheek against his. She felt the coolness of his skin, and her body shuddered.

He’s here. Oh God…he’s really here… She felt the tears flooding her eyes once again. She just couldn’t stop.

He shifted her body so that he was holding her in his lap, much like she had held Jonina only days ago, and murmured soothing sounds to her, trilling in her ear. The vibration of his voice against her neck made her shiver.

Then suddenly, he was carrying her. She held tight to his neck as he lifted her up, and swept her past the little happy, blinking, lights on the Christmas tree in the corner.

She felt warm and loved, like she never had before. She let herself fall, and breathed in the scent that she thought she’d lost. She felt his chest vibrating with love as he silently took her up the stairs, and past their daughter’s room.

As Spike placed her gently on the bed, she felt the tension leave her.

The look that beamed from him told her everything.

He was here.

He loved her.

And…she loved him. With everything she was…she loved him.
*****************************************************

24 December 1872- London, England-

He walked the streets with Darla and Drusilla, nearly dizzy with the smell of the season. He was hungry. This time of year, people stayed indoors. But tonight was different; tonight the streets were bustling with activity and life. Tonight the air was teeming with the smell of spiced rum, sugarplums, and chestnuts.

One little sweet would not be missed.

He found the one he wanted. She was small, and plump. Admittedly, she wasn’t more than a mouthful, bit she would chase the hunger pains away, until a bigger meal happened by.

“Oh, Daddy,” Drusilla’s voice breathed in his ear, “she’s a living doll. Can I have her?”

He watched the little sweet struggle to keep pace with her father, whose arms were full of packages wrapped in bright bows and ribbons, and shook his head, “No Dru. This one’s mine.”

Leaving Drusilla and Darla in the snow looking on, Angelus set off to satisfy his sweet tooth.
*************************************************************

What am I doing here? I shouldn’t even be here. They don’t need me here. I’d only cause them pain. That’s all I’ve ever done.

Liam Donovan peered into the windows of the brick building on Jennings Street. His new eyes didn’t allow him to see much in the darkness- just the steady, happy blue and white lights that reflected in the glass. Given the season, he could only assume that they were the lights from a Christmas tree.

When did she have time to…George. Steady, constant George… he smiled to himself; …Spike finds me here, I’m dead- again.

The vampire had begun lurking around this old garage when he’d heard that the vampire that lived beyond the doors was gone. It was a long shot, but Oscar felt that this would be a good place to catch a hot meal.

Most of the time, he was wrong; but apparently, not tonight. He watched the man that was skulking around the outside of the building, craning his neck to look in the windows, and he couldn’t believe his luck.

Oscar chuckled low in his chest, “As fat as a Christmas goose. Christmas came early this year. And, he’s been a very, very, bad boy,” he slowly stalked over to his unsuspecting dinner, “This is just too easy.”
****************************************************************************

Buffy didn’t know why, but suddenly the blue eyes that loved her without words, became the glowing eyes of a hunter. He pushed her slowly away, his senses on alert.

A low growl permeated the room, and sent Buffy’s mind reeling, “Spike…what is it?” she whispered, feeling the tightness that meant fear, settle in her chest.

Spike’s hand went up to silence her. He left her, and stealthily went out into the hall and down the stairs.

He felt that his kin was endangered. He knew he had to save his family.

His feet carried him swiftly away from this cocoon of warmth and love, and down- down into the night. He knew that his family was near. That scent was recognizable. He’d known it well, and for a very long time. That was fear.

And, as he stood in the doorway of the dojo, staring out into the night, Spike knew.

He was gone.

24 DECEMBER 1872-LONDON-

The gentle snow fell on the forgotten boxes, with their bright ribbon, as they were strewn in the street. Oscar Lendman frantically searched for her, “Diana,” he called as he ran through the streets, his panic rising with every step, “come out, Rabbit,” he tried to keep the fear out of his tone. If his girl thought he was cross, she would never come out from her hiding place.

He’d only looked away for an instant. How could she have disappeared? The streets were crowded with people. Surely, someone must have seen her.

As he searched the crowded street for her, the horror grew within him. She was so small, “Diana,” he called, peering into every alley and hovel that could possibly hide a little girl, watching for a flash of her red hair, all done up prettily with a green satin ribbon. He listened intently for any cry, for the rustle of the petticoat she was so found of, but there was nothing.

Faces became indistinct as fright blew over him, colder than the winter wind. No face mattered but hers, all others passed in a frenzied blur. He dimly noticed concerned looks from the sea of faces that were not hers. Tears of loss made it difficult to see.

The black outline of a constable came into view and he seized upon it. He gripped the man desperately, “Constable, please,” he gasped, the tears running unashamedly down his face, “My little girl…she’s very nearly seven…she has red hair, that’s bound up in a green satin ribbon. Diana, she…” he fought for control, and his voice shook with the effort, “Her frock is red, and she’s wearing a black frockcoat. Tell me…” his breath heaved, “…have you seen her? She was here a moment ago…”
*******************************************************

The scream of the police siren as it faded into the Los Angeles night brought back the sound of the constable’s whistle. It was a sound that Oscar would never forget.

There were many parts of Los Angeles that were full of abandoned, or run-down buildings. Places that were perfect for the things he needed to do. Places where they would not be disturbed.

If there were any screams, they would fade into the din of the city. His screams would fade. But for Oscar, the silent screams of his little girl would never fade. It was that sound that drove him, that sound that made him do the unthinkable.

As Oscar shut his eyes against the echo of the whistle, and its gruesome aftermath, he was transported forward in time.

In an instant, one hundred and thirty-three years flew by and he was face to face with her killer. The day she was found, lifelessly strewn atop the bales of rotting horse feed in an abandoned stable, his heart blackened and he became a monster.

But now-at last, now- he was looking into the calm, sleeping face of his daughter’s killer.

The man groaned to life and Oscar knelt down, “How did it feel…” he asked the groggy man, as his eyes began to focus on the frightening visage of his captor, “to be frightened? To feel the pain in your chest as your breath came shorter and shorter? How did it feel? Did it feel like you were drowning? Did it choke you,” he watched as the man who called himself Liam began to rouse, and the haze of unconsciousness lifted. Wide eyes met his as the man began to understand what was happening to him. Suddenly Oscar caught the most wonderful, hideous scent in the air, “Ah,” he sighed as he breathed in its heady aroma, “there it is,” his voice was quiet and low, almost a growl, “Fear. Do you remember it? Did she…?” Oscar stopped, taking in the sound of his heartbeat and his ragged breathing, “Is this…what Diana sounded like?” his voice snagged on a long ago hurt, “Did her heart beat like a frightened…” his voice trailed off as memories assailed him, “…rabbit?” he asked quietly.

The sick sense of irony settled in Liam’s stomach as he took in the wavering image of what he knew, instinctively, was a vampire. Liam resigned himself to his fate. He’d been a monster for centuries, preying on the weak. Now, he was weak.

He had become the victim. And, he had no hope of rescue. Over the years, he’d killed or tortured, in one way or another alienated any hope of rescue.

He was a good monster, but he was never a man worthy of rescue.

His only hope was to pray to a deity, or something, that cared for him. He just hoped that he hadn’t spit in the face of his savior once too often.

Please Spike…if you can hear me at all…please…

His mouth went dry in fear, and he felt his new blood rushing through him quickly, “Please,” he begged, his head swimming in fog from the asphyxia of hyperventilation, “Please don’t kill me. I know you want to. But, please don’t.”

Yellow eyes flashed in the dim, dingy warehouse, “Do you know me?” Oscar growled, “Do you really…know me? Because, I know you, very well, and I have better things to do than kill you. You didn’t give Diana the mercy of just killing her. No,” Oscar’s voice shook with the emotion that had carried him through the centuries, “…what you did to her…” he shook his head, feeling the hatred enlarge within his silent chest, “Before I’m done with you,” he hissed, “you will know what it is she felt.”
************************************************************************

Buffy could tell that he was agitated. His game face was firmly in place, and had been for hours now.

As the sun began to light the sky Buffy was grateful for the necro-tempered glass that he had had installed before Joni had been kidnapped and taken to that hellish place, because Spike was too fixated to take care of himself.

He’d walked the floor for hours now, in an obsessive circuit; from their bedroom to Joni’s and back, he was a mute sentry. When she had attempted to leave the room to try and calm him, he growled, and his eyes begged her to stay where he knew she was safe.

There was nothing more she wanted in the world but to help him. So, if staying where she was would help, that was what she would do.

She just hoped it was enough, and as the wee hours waned into daylight, she felt his agitation fade into sorrow.

When he was too exhausted to continue, and the unseen foe could not be fought, he collapsed in her arms and wept.

As she held him, she felt the pain he felt, and cried out to any and all guardians of this dimension, be it deity or otherwise, for help.

The prayers floated up to the ether, and were caught by one who knew all concerned. The one who had long ago made the promise.

The one who had changed everything, for her. To help her- and all she cared about.

That one smiled, and made the promise once more.

Surely Love, the wind seemed to whisper; this isn’t going to be easy.

He took comfort in her softness. There was so much he wanted to tell her. It was all in his mind and in his heart, but he couldn’t verbalize the thoughts.

It had been so long since he’d heard anything resembling the language she spoke, that he couldn’t master his tongue well enough to make the sounds form in any kind of order that she would understand. The one sound he did manage to string together had been an amazing surprise, and he didn’t know if he could do it again. But, he did remember it. He just had to reach and find it again. Everything he wanted to say was safely hidden away from the harsh years.

The years he was alone.

He could tell from her soft murmurings and the glistening ache in her eyes that she wanted to reach him; needed to, as much as he needed to tell her.

Her eyes told him everything. And that both awed and saddened him.

No! Oh, Buffy! I missed you so much! Don’t weep for me. Do you know how long it’s been? What I saw in that place? I can hardly believe you’re here. Oh, you’re so soft…like I remember…like I left you…and that sound…your breath…when you left, there was nothing.


Buffy felt him shudder as she held him, “Shh, it’s all right. I’m here. I’m right here,” she knew that there were things he’d seen, that were locked inside of him. Nightmarish things, that he would never be at peace with, never be able to put to rest, until he could tell her about them.

Things that, she wished she knew how to unlock, if only to give him some peace. He’d given her back Jonina. There had to be a way to repay him for that.

The way he held her, the way he protected Jonina and her, spoke of a deep sense of loss. But how could she reach him?

As she looked at the deep ridges of his vampire face, Buffy realized that the contours of his face were even more deeply furrowed than she remembered. She knew that the kinds of changes she was seeing could not have occurred in the six weeks he’d been gone.

She knew that he had to have been gone much longer than that. Joni herself was proof of that. She’d been taken to that place a tiny, premature little baby, and returned as an eight-year-old girl.

Angel had even told her that time flowed differently in that place, but she didn’t want to believe it. But the proof of what he’d said was in his face. It was in the way he held her.

The proof had even been in Willow’s magic. The guide she’d conjured to help find him, and the baby, looked like an old man, but he looked so much like Spike, too.

She closed her eyes and tried to think of what that guide, the kindly old man, who called himself Homer, had told her.

The soft voice that reminded her so much of Spike’s had told her what life had been like for him, in that place. It had been a life filled with sickness and death. A world in which all the Slayers had died, including her. It was a world in which he’d won and lost his humanity, because of her.

As she thought about that, Buffy began to wonder; did he resent her for that?
*******************************************************************

Oscar studied his face as it went ashen with fright, and he couldn’t have been more pleased. He knelt and his fangs glinted in the dark as he spoke, “Don’t think I don’t know who you are.”

“W-were,” Liam stuttered.

Oscar chortled and rolled his eyes, delighted at the sheen of perspiration that set his face in an eerie light, “Don’t you try and bamboozle me,” he warned, his tone low and menacing, “You know that the demon circuit in Los Angeles is fast as lightning; especially where the ‘Master Puppet’ is concerned. You used to be one of the most feared vampires around, even when you were playing at being a good guy,” Oscar shook his head, honestly disgusted with the man in front of him, “Spike’s been back,” he shrugged, “maybe a week, and it’s already all over this town. The demons know what went down. Now,” Oscar’s tone was dismissive and the words more biting than his fangs, “you’re not a puppet anymore. Now you’re just Geppetto’s mistake. I’ve waited years for this,” he hissed, “I’ve allowed myself to become a monster,” he saw confusion in the man’s eyes, “Oh, I am sorry. Don’t you recognize me?” Oscar asked as the demon visage shifted, leaving behind a slim, feeble looking man with features that were characteristic of the emerald isle. He had red hair and fierce, ice blue eyes. If it hadn’t been for a slight North London accent, Liam would have sworn the man had just disembarked from a plane out of Dublin.

It was the accent that gave him pause. It sounded too much like…Spike. But the name that passed his lips was, “…Oscar?” he squinted in the low light, struggling to place the familiar, yet nondescript, features.

If he knew him, maybe he could talk his way out of this, “Oscar Lendman…from accounting?”

Oscar nodded, grinning, “Yes, the accounting department of Wolfram and Hart’s Los Angeles office. Poetic, isn’t it? We go back much further than that. Think hard, Liam,” Oscar coaxed, as though talking to a child, “I remember it like it was yesterday. And, I have to say that I am a little wounded that you could be so careless as to not remember. I thought you prided yourself on not being able to take your eyes off of your victims,” he sighed, “All right, I’ll refresh your memory. Christmas eve 1872- and a little girl with red hair, and a green satin ribbon…Remember now?”

The cold of recognition shot to his heart. And her face appeared, out of time, before his eyes, “Oh no…” he whispered.

Oscar nodded, “Yeah, her name was Diana, in case you’ve forgotten,” he shrugged again, “Say, I’m curious…do you think Spike thinks enough of you to rescue you? Or, would he just…let me have you…as a Christmas gift…because you stole his daughter too?” he asked with the glint of murder in his eye.
****************************************************************************

They’d spent hours in each other’s arms. He knew the words were there, he could feel them sitting right on the tip of his tongue. He could even taste their sweetness as it filled his mouth. They slowly rose and made his chest ache. But they wouldn’t push past his lips.

He slowly left her warmth and went out into the light of the world. The light was his once, when his youngling was with him.

When she left the darkness overcame the world. And, he was cold. Now the light and warmth was here. She had brought it with her.

He looked out onto the bright, hurtful things of this world. A world filled with frightening things, that he knew he should know, but that were lost in the fog in his head- the haze of memory. His heart beat again, in this place, and that was enough.

He was here, and there was no going back.

He longed for familiar things.

He walked down the stairs in the soft light of morning, as the images from his sleep were still vivid. His sleep had somehow made this place known to him. He carefully prowled around the open areas, brushing his fingertips across the furnishings as he went.

He knew his time alone had made him primitive, and that discouraged him because he was unable to communicate with Her, or his youngling. But, he still understood what the things of this world were, even though he hadn’t touched them in a very long time.

As he quietly opened the small metal closet that sat at the edge of an open space, he looked at the things that hung there, and then down at the cloths he was wearing, and realized that they were the same.

These things were his. He belonged here, at one time, and would belong again.
*********************************************************

Oscar Lendman had an eye for details. He was an accountant for Wolfram and Hart, and he was prepared to keep Liam Donovan alive for a very long time. Years, if need be. The abandoned shed was well stocked with water and food staples.

Now, there was only one question. How much did Liam Donovan want to survive?

Oscar placed the loaf of bread and the bottle of water within his reach, and grinned when the man snatched them up greedily.

“Well, I can see that you recognize the pangs of hunger,” Oscar said as he watched the man gulp down the bread, all the while sending his captor a steely, boring gaze. The vampire smiled, his blue eyes dancing, “You’d better be careful. Eat too much of that and you could make yourself sick,” he said, seemingly concerned, “That wouldn’t be good,” he shrugged, “Of course, you…could stop eating,” his eyes glinted, “But then, you would die. Is that any way to show your gratitude for being alive?”

“I’ll get out of here, you know,” Liam said gruffly, “You sleep during the day. I could stake you, or set you on fire.”

Oscar laughed, and his laughter echoed in the dark, cavernous building, “Please! Do you think I’d give you anything that can be used as a weapon? Look around,” he said, his eyes sweeping the darkness, “There’s nothing here. Nothing except what I bring to you. There will be no knives, no eating utensils of any kind. No matches, no lighters, no wood. Not even a toothpick, and, of course, no cellular phone. There are no chains here. You’re free to move anywhere you like. But, you’re still stuck here,” there was a flash of amber, and Liam drew back in fright, “until I let you out. Amazing, isn’t it? How weak you are now? One little lock, and you’re stuck. There are no windows, so it’s always night. I don’t need to sleep. I could last for weeks without feeding. How long can this stalemate last?”

Liam’s voice sounded sure, but there was an undercurrent of fright held within it, “Spike will find me.”

“Oh, I have no doubt,” Oscar said, “But, I’ve done my research. X’yxeth is different for every inhabitant. It’s a temporal rift, essentially. And, emotions can cause the waves within the rift to fluctuate wildly. When things are calm, time slows. However, when they’re not…” he looked deeply into his former employer’s eyes, “Without his child, how calm do you think Spike was in that place? I’d estimate hundreds of years have passed for him there. Does he even remember you? And, if he does, will the years of torture and rape, at your hands, have any affect on what he feels for you? If he feels anything at all?”
***********************************************************

Spike noticed the design on the floor. A circle with a bit of white and black, that joined in the center. He let his eyes take it in as he slowly walked to it. As his bare feet skidded over the floor, he was comforted as his mind took him to images that he’d all but forgotten.

Her beautiful, softly musical words rang in his head, ”Now who has the shoe fetish?”

He could hear his own voice, feigning irritation, but delighting in her, and her fire and life. Reveling in her closeness and her warmth, “Buffy, will you please focus!”

He shook the image off, and walked to retrieve one of the quarterstaffs that hung, waiting to be used, in brackets on the wall. He took one down and felt it’s weight as he slowly turned it in his hand.

Unconsciously, his body began to move in ways he’d forgotten.
********************************************************

Buffy was warmed slowly, as the late morning sunlight filtered into the room. She sleepily opened her eyes and she smiled as she watched the light making soft pools on the floor.

Then she realized that Spike wasn’t next to her, and her breath stilled as she listened to sounds of a scuffle from beneath.

She put her robe over her cotton nightgown, and followed her instincts as she ran the short distance to Jonina’s room, and opened the door. She sighed with relief when her daughter was sleeping safely, with her stuffed toy rabbit cradled in her arms.

The rhythmic sounds stirred something within her as she descended the stairs and made her way to the dojo.

As the muffled sounds grew louder, her heart was filled with concern. If Spike was confused, maybe even hurting, she wanted to help.

When she came to the opening that led to the main workout room, her mind flashed on a memory of Spike quickly stepping over the remains of the old tackling dummy, that she had dismembered in a fit of frustration, to hold her and comfort her.

There he was, in the middle of the floor, wielding a quarterstaff as if it were a part of him. As he whirled, she watched, and saw familiar gestures. The way he moved made her smile, and the unneeded use of breath, as he grunted from physical exertion, sent a giggle through her.

He’s beautiful. No wonder he calls it a dance. There’s no effort there. He flows like water.

It was soft, and she tried to stifle it, but he must have heard it, because he turned to face her, his chest heaving as he stared at her with wide, dark eyes.

She felt the heat rise in her cheeks, “Sorry,” she mumbled, slowly stepping to him, “I didn’t mean to scare you,” her eyes lowered and she sighed, “It’s just…this is so you. It’s good to see.”

She slowly melted into his embrace as they met in the middle of the floor. He held her lightly and murmured in her ear for a moment. Then he pulled back slightly, and regarded her quizzically. She could see a question forming, and waited patiently as he gently held her.

His voice came softly and unsure, as he touched her hair and his hand slid down her chest to stop at her heart, “You…”

The hope swelled within her, “Me?” she put her hand to her chest, and saw the question in his eyes, “I’m Buffy,” her hands trembled as they reached for the clasp of the chain around her neck. His wedding ring; the thing he’d given her as a sign of hope when she’d left him in that Hell dimension, with Jonina, “Here,” her voice quavered as she held the silver in her hand, “this is yours. Remember, Spike?”

His own hands were shaking as he took the precious ring. The images of her departure and the darkness that came after assailed him, “B…uffy?” he whispered, “Buffy?” he slowly placed the silver where he intuitively knew it belonged-on the third finger of his left hand, “Wife…?”

“Yes,” she said, breathless with joy, “Yes I am, and always will be.”

As they kissed one another, in a room bathed in sunlight, the smiling eyes of a little girl watched happily as the sweeter things from her dreams began to come true.

Jonina turned to sneak back up the stairs to her bed, and whispered softly in her little rabbit’s ear, “Thank you, Spike, I knew you’d make things right again.”

The tiny cabin stood out in the dark. It looked like a gingerbread house. The windows were rimmed with snow, making them look as if they were made of spun sugar.

Joni walked slowly through the snow, drawn by the yellow light that flowed out of the windows like sunshine. She recognized this cabin.

This is where she was safe. This is where she had been warm before her Daddy found her and came to live with her.

This was where her Grandpa lived. This is where he told her all the fairytales and drank cocoa with marshmallows. He reminded her of her Daddy. And that made her happy and sad at the same time because she didn’t know why her Daddy didn’t know her. She didn’t know whether he ever would.

She walked to the door and knocked lightly, holding her stuffed rabbit close to her. She held her breath as she waited for the door to open and was happy when the little brown door opened and Grandpa’s soft blue-grey eyes looked down at her, “Joni,” his eyes widened behind his spectacles, “what are you doing here?” he knelt to embrace her and his head leaned to one side as he regarded her, “Shouldn’t you be going back to your Daddy? He’ll be worried about you.”

Joni sniffed back her tears, “But Papa, Daddy doesn’t know me,” her chin quivered, “The bad things made him forget.”

The old man’s eyes reflected the sadness he felt for her, “Oh, Joni, you know your Daddy would never forget you. He came to get you remember?” she moved into his arms and he picked her up and took her into the warmth of his cabin. He sat her down at the old wood table, and took down his homemade cocoa from its place above the stove, and poured it into her favorite cup, and placed it in front of her. As he heated the milk for her, “I think that your Daddy,” the old man’s eyes twinkled as he watched the little girl he took care of lick her lips in anticipation of the sweet chocolate drink, and he smiled as he poured the milk that dissolved the granules, “…he’s been away so long that he just got lost. I think it’s your turn to save him,” he smiled as she carefully put the warm cup to her lips and came away with a line of liquid chocolate smeared across her upper lip, “Do you think you can do it, Princess?”

Joni’s eyes went wide with excitement, “You mean I get to save the Prince this time?”

The old man sat in the chair opposite her and nodded, “I think so,” he said joyfully.

“Will you help, Papa?”

He smiled and winked at her, “I’ll do what I can. Your uncle’s gotten himself into trouble again. You and I might have to help him, and Spike Rabbit here,” he said as he reached across the table and shook her brown toy’s fuzzy paw as it sat staring at him from her lap, “can help too. Now, just be patient with your Daddy. He’s trying, and he loves you very much.”

“Okay, Papa.”

“Okay,” the old man sighed, straightening to clear her cup from the table. He turned to kiss her on her forehead and whispered, “Time to wake up now, Sweetheart.”

Joni felt the slight pressure on her forehead and knew she was safe. Her Daddy was near. She opened her eyes and saw his blue ones sparkling at her in the dark. Jonina reached her tiny hand up to touch his cheek, and he leaned into her touch, grateful for this small bit of warmth. Her little voice drifted up to him in a whisper, “I’m here, Daddy. And, I know the way out, if you’re lost. Just follow Mommy and me. We know the way.”

Spike wasn’t sure what she was saying, but her tone was soothing and understanding was easier now. He nodded, tilting his head to the side, he marveled at how unchanged she was by the dark place he found her in.

She was still so pure. She was amazing. His eyes took in the purple mark on her cheek. He remembered it from his dreams. In his dreams, she was his wings; wings he used to soar above the terror he dwelt in, “Dove…” he whispered brokenly, “…I…love you.”
***************************************************************

As Liam slept on the cold floor, he knew he wasn’t alone, but it wasn’t a vampire that he was sensing. He dimly wondered where Oscar had gone as the room he was in began to fill with light. The warmth made him want to open his eyes.

A voice that was both familiar and not, drifted to his ears. It was worn with age but an edge could be heard in the words, “Relax Liam. You’re still asleep. I’d tell you who I am,” the voice held a grin, “but you wouldn’t believe me. You can open your eyes. I won’t bite…I promise.”

Liam opened his eyes and stared into a pair of laughing blue-grey eyes, of a man that was crouched low next to his face, which looked at him from behind a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles. The face was time-worn, and he was sure he’d seen it before. Liam sat up and squinted, “I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?” he asked.

The eyes that looked at him twinkled with something familiar, “That you have. But, at the time, you didn’t think I was real,” he sighed, “The Dustins, well…they’re my job,” his eyes rolled to the ceiling, “You wouldn’t believe what I’ve gone through to get this assignment. I’m their angel…” he chuckled a little at the use of the word, “so to speak. And, by extension, I get you, too. The Higher Ups really do have a warped sense of humor. Yes,” he nodded, “you’ve seen me before. In that place you took that little baby to. I took care of the graveyard you sent Buffy, as well as William to. Yes,” he sighed, “you’ve seen me before. But, I’ve changed so much since you saw me last, I didn’t think you would recognize me. But, don’t worry. Spike and I will get you out of here. Again.”

Liam woke to, not blue-grey eyes that were somehow familiar and warm, but to the amber eyes of a killer, “Oh, good,” Oscar sneered, “you’re awake. Now this will be so much more fun.”

Liam tried to focus on the vampire that held him captive, “Oscar,” he tried to keep the breathless sound out of his voice; he tried to sound like the vampire he had been, “You don’t have to do this. You can let me go,” he begged as he strained to hear him moving in the darkness that had suddenly become part of his world again. His eyes frantically searched the darkness as he felt the blood pounding throughout his body, “I swear,” he choked on the fear in his throat, “no one will know. No one will follow you- just let me go.”

Oscar’s voice came out of the dark, “So you can send the Slayer after me?” he laughed heartily, “No one will be finding you,” the voice sent a long-forgotten chill down Liam’s spine. It was a horrifying feeling, and he didn’t want to be feeling it again, “until I’m finished with you. There will be a reckoning, you know. I’ve made sure of that.”

Even in the dark, Liam knew that Oscar was near. He knew that tone. He was toying with his prey, batting the mouse around a little before the kill. Sometimes it made the taste of the blood so much sweeter with a pinch of fright.

It had been hundreds of years since he’d been the victim, and now as he stared blindly, searching for something, Liam’s mouth began to feel dry and his heartbeat was loud in his ears.

He held his breath, trying to still the fear. His mind raced and thoughts came screaming into his consciousness. Thoughts he hadn’t entertained in centuries.

Please…if you’re going to kill me…do it quick…please don’t…he closed his eyes as what he’d done to little Diana Lendman came back to him, “I’m sorry. Please don’t…” he was speechless with fright as he spanned the black for something; somewhere that he could focus. He knew what he’d done as a vampire, the kind of grief he’d caused, and he could only hope that Oscar hadn’t studied his prey too closely.

Because he saw little Diana’s eyes as they pleaded with him not to do the things he had in mind to do-pleas that fell on profoundly deaf ears, and a cold, shriveled heart.

He could even remember laughing at the tears that ran down her cheeks as she cried out for her father.

He could remember feeling the wetness on her face because he felt it now on his own as Oscar came slowly out of the shadows, his face contorted with grief and justice denied, “Did she beg too?” he asked.
*******************************************************************************

As she looked into her Daddy’s eyes, Jonina saw the softness that she’d seen in her Papa’s eyes and smiled, “I love you, too, Daddy,” she mumbled as she began to snuggle into her pillows with her toy rabbit at her side.

He watched her as she drifted to sleep again and sighed with contentment. He glanced down at the soft light of the silver ring around his finger and longed to be near his wife again.

He slowly turned, suddenly torn between what he knew and the frighteningly wonderful unknown that waited for him.

When he reached the threshold of her door a warmth overwhelmed him the likes of which he thought only belonged to his dream life, and hearing her voice call him back made him feel safe, “Daddy…” her voice called softly.

He turned and saw her eyes shining mischievously in the dark. She quickly scrambled out of the bedclothes and hopped out of bed, scurrying close to him. She looked up excitedly at him, “I have an idea,” she said as she confidently took his hand in hers, “Follow me.”

He wasn’t sure what she was saying, or where he was going as he was gently pulled along, bending his knees so that her little hand would not have to strain to hold him, but he knew in his heart that his youngling would never lead him astray.
***************************************************************************

Georgina knew that she should leave them be, let the little family heal, but they had been through so much darkness that she had to help the light shine again.

She carefully pulled her van, which was filled to the brim with the boxes of the season, each covered in bright paper and bows, into the small lot in front of the little brick building on Jennings Street and noticed the warm light pouring from the windows.

She smiled as she looked at her dashboard clock. It was three in the morning. If she didn’t know the true nature of her friends, and the owners of the Synergy Dojo, she would have called the police.

As Georgina made her way out of the van, the sound of laughter wafted to her ears, it was a good sound. A sound she had wanted to hear again in this place.

She rang the doorbell, and was pleasantly surprised to hear Buffy’s jovial, muffled voice, “I’ll get it! Jonina Irene Dustin, it’s three in the morning! I don’t care if your Daddy is catching on. You should be in bed!”

Georgina waited patiently for the door to open. She looked down and noticed a bit of white in the dark. It was an envelope with the name William A. Dustin printed on the front in small block letters in black ink. Georgina reached down to pick it up and put it in the pocket of her coat just as the door opened, and she could see Buffy’s smiling face, “Georgie come on in, maybe you can talk some sense into Joni,” she shook her head, bemused by her daughter, stepping back to let Georgina inside, “She was taken to that place when she was two weeks old and suddenly she’s eight,” her eyes widened and she shrugged, shutting the door, “How she even knows how to talk is beyond me; or about Sesame Street, I’ll never know. She came back much less traumatized than Spike did. I just don’t get it.”

“Maybe she had someone looking after her? She’s a lucky little girl, to have you two to love her.”

“No Georgie…we’re the lucky ones.”

Gentle laughter drifted down the stairs, “What’s going on upstairs?”

“Oh that,” Buffy laughed, “is a crash course in the English language-Jonina style. What are you doing here so late…or is this early?”

Georgina smiled sheepishly, “I wanted to play Saint Nick. But, it’s hard for me to fit this old jalopy down a chimney,” she jokingly gestured to the wheelchair she used, “Personally, I’m waiting for a cool jet-pack. But, you gotta roll with the punches.”

“Yeah, but if you’re not careful you could get knocked out.”

“The goodies are out in my van,” she reached into her pocket to take out the envelope, “And, I found this on the doorstep,” she said, handing the envelope to Buffy.

Buffy frowned as she looked at Spike’s name on the front of the envelope. She flipped it over and opened the flap. Inside was an instant photograph of a seemingly sleeping Angel. Sleeping…or dead. Buffy gasped, as she read the words on the white that framed the image.

Her hands began to shake as she read the words: For little girls lost. Happy Holidays!! Regards, O.

The photo floated to the floor of the dojo, and Buffy screamed for Spike as she ran upstairs to him, and her little girl.

He may not have understood the words as they were spoken by her quivering voice, but he understood the feelings because he’d felt them before. What he felt now was the same feeling that had had driven him to kill the beastly things of the world that threatened to take his youngling, his one softness, away from him.

The fingers of fire that skittered the length of his spine spoke to the primal within, as he stared into her frightened eyes, “Spike,” Buffy shook her head, trying to keep her voice even; knowing that she should be calm, but somehow the idea that someone she didn’t know could know anything about what she and he family had been through, was anything but calming, “how does he know?” Buffy hated the shrillness of her own voice, but she hated the haze of anger and fright in Spike’s eyes even more, “How does he know about us? And what does he have to do with Joni, or Angel?”
*****************************************************************

29 DECEMBER 1872 – LONDON, ENGLAND-

William rose early, as was his custom. Truth be told, he hadn’t slept since he’d heard the whisperings about the Lendman girl.

It really was a tragedy. The girl had disappeared in a crowd of people. And, suddenly a season of joy had transformed into one of misery and pain.

The spectre of death had never been this close to him. He didn’t want to believe that it would ever be this close when he was still so young. He preferred to focus on the beautiful things of the world. But he wasn’t a fool; he knew death could come at any time, to anyone.

He just thought it a pity that someone so young could be taken.

He had even been part of a search party. He’d scoured the town, as well as the Lendmans’ estate, and his own, for days and there was not a trace of her.

The world was spinning out of control, and the only escape he knew was his writing. He slipped on his overcoat and headed to the stables near the edge of the family estate. The world was always simpler when he wrote, when he was in the stables.

He felt surprisingly light as the harsh winter sun shone brightly down on him as he made his way to the stables and for a moment he forgot about the lost little girl.

The sight of her red hair, mated with blood, and her pale face as her lifeless eyes stared up at him, their pale blue obscured by tawny bits of straw, made it impossible for him to forget her. In that moment of horrible shock, he knew he’d never be the same, carefree boy again.

“You know,” Oscar’s voice mused from out of the dark, “I always wondered why you chose William, or rather, why Drusilla did. Did she know that William was the one to find her, my little Diana? Tossed aside, like she was so much garbage. I’m surprised that William was able to survive. But, you know, if he hadn’t, Mary would never have, especially once I…” he paused, and his chilling voice came closer, “That boy-and that’s what he was- a boy. What was he, all of eighteen? A man, then. But he wouldn’t be considered one now. He had such a big heart. He took care of Mary, when I couldn’t.”

Liam tried to find Oscar in the dark, but he couldn’t. He was being tormented by an unseen man, bent on vengeance, and he hated it.

“Oscar,” Liam rasped, “I can’t take any of what happened back,” he could feel the tears, tears from both anger and fear, stinging his eyes as he spoke, “I would if I could. You have to believe me…”

“Do I?” Oscar spit out, his voice booming in the darkness, “And why is that? You’ve proven that you’re a liar…and a cold-blooded child murderer!”

Liam could feel the heat of his venom as it hung, suffocating, in the air, “Oscar,” he wheezed, his chest tight with fear, “You know what I was. You are what I was. You kill to survive, and so did I. There’s no conscience, no thinking involved…”

“I never killed a child!” Oscar screamed, “But, I might have to kill you…after all, I can’t control myself. I have no conscience!”
********************************************

She was shaking as he held her, and it shook him to his core. This was something beyond words, “I don’t really care about him,” Buffy was saying, “But, whoever this is…If he could get close enough to Angel to take him; what’s stopping him from getting to you, or Jonina? I just got you back, and I don’t want to lose you. Not again,” she looked up at him through misty eyes, “I thought you were dead and gone for almost a year,” she knew she was babbling, and that he probably couldn’t understand her, but she couldn’t stop the torrent of emotion, “and it almost killed me. I couldn’t…” she shook her head, nearly overcome, “When you left, and he told me…” her chest was heaving as she took in gulps of air, “When he came back from that place, and he told me that he’d been there, for thirty years, I thought I’d never see you or Joni again!”

He looked at her, and knew, from somewhere deep inside of him, that he’d seen that look of helplessness before. His heart put the image before his eyes and he was once again struck mute. He saw her face and her sorrowful eyes broke him as her voice echoed in his mind, “I love you. ” And, suddenly he knew why he’d pushed it to the back of his mind as if she hadn’t said it. It was because he hadn’t wanted to see her break. He wanted her to live, and he knew she wouldn’t if she thought he’d believed her, and he had, with all that was in him; he believed her.

His own words echoed, as the emotions crushed him again. The first time he’d been unable to speak. It was no different now. “No, you don’t. But, thanks for saying it.”

He didn’t know how or where the words came, but he could tell, from the look on her face that, by some perfect alignment of the stars, or by the grace of whatever was watching over him, he had made himself understood, “No,” he said softly, his voice strong and sure, “Never…Never leave you. Always protect you.”

“See, Mommy,” Jonina said, brightly, “I knew Daddy could do it. He can be the Prince. And, the Prince saves people. If the bad man has someone…” she looked excitedly, if a bit unsure, at both of her parents, “Daddy will save them,” she hugged her toy rabbit in shaking fingers, “…Right?”
*************************************************************************

Liam’s ears were still ringing from Oscar’s inhuman growl. He was sure that Oscar had burst an eardrum with his outrage.

The pain was so intense that he could barely hear the question. It sounded as if Oscar was whispering to him from across a football field but his mouth, and his cold words were unmistakably near, “…Children don’t believe in evil. They see good in everyone,” his amber eyes were alight with rage, “That’s what make them such easy prey. A smile, a kind word, and they’ll follow you anywhere,” even though his eyes were full of rage, his voice was saddened and shaken, “And, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Children should never see what we really are. Do you think little Jonina knows what you are?”

“I’m not…” Liam stuttered, “that anymore.”

“Does that mean that you’re worth saving?”

The whispered quarry made Liam look over both phases of his life, the living and the dead, and he came to a certain conclusion, “No,” he said, as the tears rolled down his face.

Oscar’s face blurred as it moved away slightly. His voice held a chuckle. He was clearly surprised by the answer, “Do you think Spike will think you’re worth saving? Do you think Joni can convince him to save you?”

Buffy looked at her daughter’s trusting eyes and slowly walked over to her and knelt down. She reached for Joni’s little hand, as she watched the other hand wrap protectively around her tattered toy rabbit, “Yes, Sweetheart. The prince does save the princess…in fairytales. This isn’t a fairytale.”

Spike stood by and watched the exchange with interest. The harshness of the world he’d left behind was still fresh in his mind. How this little girl was able to forget the things they’d both shared and seen was a mystery to him. But then, when he had his little Dove with him, things seemed easier. Perhaps she had been spared the brunt of it.

She was still so young. Perhaps she had forgotten everything he couldn’t. It was his one hope for her, and to see it draining from her was simply more than he could bear. He couldn’t allow that hope to be taken from her, no matter how beautiful the thief was.

He voiced his concern with a soft growl. Buffy turned her head and her eyes widened, not sure what had caused him to growl. The soft eyes made her relax a little, and she released a puff of breath as she squeezed her daughter’s hand, “Your Daddy obviously disagrees with me, Joni,” Buffy said softly, remembering what she was like when she was eight years old. At Joni’s age, she still believed in the Easter Bunny, and Joni had already been through so much in her small life, she really couldn’t blame Spike for wanting her to have this little lie a bit longer, “And, you know what?” she asked, turning her attention back to Joni and her little rabbit, “I think he’s right, and so are you,” she smiled warmly and tweaked Jonina’s nose, “I like your bunny. I don’t remember giving that to you,” she said cautiously, careful not to frighten her, “so that place must have really been magic, huh?”

“Uh huh!” Joni nodded, cheerily.

Buffy looked over her shoulder at her husband and her mate, who has quickly and quietly moved closer, as if to protect his little family. The look on his face told her that his experience had been much less pleasant than hers.

That much she knew. It was his pain- his bond with her- that had driven her to try to pull them out; that made her beg him to leave that frozen waste with her.

It nearly broke her when he denied her.

She looked back at her daughter’s soft brown eyes, eyes that told her that she had known nothing but warmth and love in that place and knew that Spike had somehow made it that for her. She’d seen his little oasis. It was a place she had wanted to stay, herself. She even remembered that he had said Joni thought of her as a princess, and couldn’t wait to go back with her to the great adventure- in a world without him.

“Well,” Buffy said, brightly, trying to disguise the deep hurt and sorrow she felt for Spike, “you look tired, and so does your Daddy. Why don’t you go back to bed?” suddenly she remembered the gifts that were still waiting to be freed from Georgina’s van, “You can sleep in that special sleeping bag your cousin Stephen brought you, okay. And then tomorrow there will be gifts for you, under the tree. I promise.”

Joni’s eyes widened in surprise and she bounced a little, “Really, Mommy, why?”

“Well your Daddy’s back. That’s reason enough, isn’t it?” she smiled broadly.

“Yes,” Joni squealed as she hugged her mother tightly, “it is!” she quickly let go of Buffy’s neck and ran to Spike, who bent to scoop her up in his arms, “I’m glad you’re back, Daddy. I missed you,” Joni said as she kissed him on the cheek.

Spike turned his eyes to hers, as he held her, and bowed his head, touching his forehead to hers. He purred softly, the sound coming from the top of his throat like a whisper. Joni murmured back to her father, and he set her on her feet again and watched her and her toy bunny head off to her tiny room to sleep.

Buffy sighed. He looks so tired. And not just that, he looks older too, physically. He’s been through so much, because of Angel. First, the Hellmouth and the amulet- I’m still not sure I believe what Giles said. But…he looks so tired…It has to be true. Is it true? Then the fight with the Circle, and Drusilla and what she did to me, and to him. That cost him so much. And then… “Spike…” as he turned toward her, Buffy nearly lost her breath again. She saw before her the blue-grey eyes of the man from Willow’s spell. The one that called himself Homer. The one who had told her what had happened to Spike in that world, told her what he’d seen, and all he’d given up. Could it really be true? Could it be… “Spike…?” he looked at her, patiently waiting for her to finish speaking. She smiled with relief when he raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, looking at her, “I’m going to go downstairs and tell Georgie that it’s okay to unload the toy store she has stashed in the back of her van,” as his brows furrowed apprehensively, she assured him, “I’ll be back. Go to bed,” she soothed, “you look so tired…”

She paused at the top of the stairs and heaved a sigh. Her whole body shivered when she felt his hand on her shoulder. His hands held her firmly even as her knees began to weaken at the look in his eye. They were dark with passion, need and pain. He was looking at her as if she was the only thing that existed in his world at that moment. It was as if he needed her to live, and was clinging to her as if he would drown without her, and would drown because of her, too. But, as his lips seized hers in a searing kiss, he didn’t seem to care.

And that was okay, because suddenly she felt like she was drowning too. She felt as though she’d been lost for years, and was now finally able to taste how wonderful it was to be found. And, it tasted so sweet that she knew she would never want anything ever again.

In a heated flash of images, she knew. She wasn’t sure if what she was feeling was because of her feelings of loss, and then suddenly having him with her, or if it was due to his pain, but it didn’t matter; what mattered was that she understood, “Oh God,” she sobbed into the crook of his neck, “I missed you so much! I’ll never be able to thank you enough…”

Her heart swelled when she heard the voice she missed so much whispered her name, “Buffy…need you…Save me…”

“You saved her, didn’t you?” she asked, her voice wavering with sorrow and thankfulness, “Homer too…” she whispered, “That was you, too. I don’t know how. But, that was you. He…”she breathed in his scent as she felt herself being lifted. She was weightless and clinging to him for dear life, because his life was as dear to her as her own, “…You told me…” she could barely breathe; she was dizzy with need, and loss, and the happiness of reunion, “…what you gave up. Why would you do that? Why would you give that to him? Why would you do that…” she sobbed softly against him, “…Why would you give that…to Angel?”

“Had to…” he growled, his voice rough with desire and need, “…To save you. Need you…” he whispered gently in her ear as they both fell silent in the throes of passion.
*******************************************************************

The early morning light that filtered through the windows was what woke her, and as she reached over to pull him closer to her, a wave of despair rolled through her when she realized she was in the bed alone. Was this just a dream? Buffy felt the panic rising in her as she quickly put on her robe. The air still smelled of him. Her skin still tingled from his touch. It all felt so real.

It can’t be a dream. It just can’t…He has to be here. He just has to. The fear that she had dreamed it all was stuck in her throat as she descended the stairs. The fear warred with hope as she saw the blue and white lights of the Christmas tree in the corner. At least that wasn’t a dream. Her heart swelled when she saw the cascade of brightly colored boxes spilling out from beneath the tree. The mound of gifts seemed to be a living thing. A thing that seemed to thrive on floor and had already eaten half of the floor in the reception area.

Just when Georgina had emptied Santa’s workshop out under that small tree she wasn’t sure. She didn’t remember telling her to leave the gifts. But, she was grateful that Georgie had done it because Buffy found Spike staring at the blinking lights and the boxes, with his head tilted to one side.

He was sizing up his enemy, clearly trying to decide if the box monster was a threat to his family.

Buffy took a deep breath and sighed, really sighed, as if a weight had been taken off of her. It wasn’t a dream. He’s really here.

Spike’s head turned, and the incredulous awe in his blue eyes made her want to laugh with relief, “Okay,” Buffy said softly as she came closer to him; she stood in front of him and looked into his perplexed face, “so maybe Georgie went a little overboard. But, can you really blame her? I mean, technically this is Jonina’s first Christmas. And your first…” her head lowered; she didn’t want to bring him any more pain by mentioning it, but to not mention it would be denying what they’d all been through, and she wasn’t going to do that, “…in a very long time. She’s happy,” Buffy whispered, “and so am I, to have you back. So is Joni. I thought you were just a dream,” she tried to hold back the tears as she felt his arms encircle her.

Buffy was so soft in his arms. He understood everything, but he didn’t have the words. He didn’t know how to tell her that she was wrong; that she was what he’d dreamed of for years. Spike didn’t know how to tell her that she was the dream. He didn’t know how to tell her all he’d gone through to have her and Jonina.

Having her here, warm and breathing, and so alive after all he had seen in that hell, was more than he had a right to hope for. Her closeness and her scent came directly from the dreams that he had to put aside, in order to survive, and it made him tremble with thankfulness, “No…”

The whispered negative made Buffy’s heart sink a little and she looked up into his soft eyes. They smiled even as they glistened down at her, “You,” he whispered, “Love you,” he shook his head slightly, “No dream,” he assured her, “No dream…”

Buffy’s chin quivered with emotion, and she nodded, her head pressed against his chest, “No, it’s not, is it?”
********************************************************************

29 December 1872- London, England-

Oscar paced by the window. He hadn’t slept at all since some fiend- some monster- had snatched little Diana from him. There had been no sign of her, nor any word from an abductor, for nigh a week. And, surely anyone who had taken Diana would know that, if they did ask a ransom, he was well within his means to pay any sum they desired; being a solicitor, he had amassed quite a fortune. A fortune he would gladly give away, to have his daughter in his arms again.

He looked out the window at the harsh morning sun- he had no sense of day or night, now that Diana had been taken; and Mary was beside herself with worry-and prayed, holding Mary tighter to him in his grief.

The sound of horse’s hooves could be heard, off in the distance, crunching softly in the snow. The sound was too rapid to be a leisurely carriage ride, and it seemed to be getting louder, coming ever nearer.

He looked out the window and saw a rider, riding his horse at a gallop, coming down the road and up toward his house. When he looked closer, Oscar recognized the rider as the Dustin boy, who lived with his family on the neighboring estate, and who had searched with him for Diana, to no avail.

Even from quite some distance, he could tell that the boy was frightened, as his horse and he neared the house.

“Is that not Master Dustin?” Mary asked in a quiet tone, a tone that spoke more of her fear than her lack of knowledge.

Oscar put his hand on his wife’s arm, to soothe her, “Mary,” he said softly, “wait for me in the parlor. I will see what news William has, and join you there.”

Her face paled with fright and she nodded slightly, whispering, “Of course,” she said as she turned to leave the room.

The knocker sounded at the door, and Oscar steeled himself for the news he dreaded. His heart beat loudly in his chest and he felt his chest tighten as he opened the door and saw the fear and horror so clearly written in the young man’s expressive blue eyes. He could see the tears begging to fall from the boy’s eyes and he knew. He knew in his heart.

His daughter was dead.

“Mister Lendman…” the boy stammered, “I-I-I am s-sorry…I have,” he lowered his eyes, obviously overcome with the pain and horror of what he had to say, “found Miss Diana. She…” his voice trailed off.

“She’s dead…?” Oscar hoped it wasn’t true, but the look in the boy’s eyes told him that it was, “This is a nightmare. Tell me…” he fought the sob that wanted to escape his throat and his voice seemed intolerably weak as he spoke, “this is a nightmare, and we will all awaken from it soon.”

“I wish I could, Sir. I truly do. But, I cannot. This is no dream. I found…what they did to her…I will remember it for the rest of my days, Sir. I am so sorry for your loss.”
*******************************************************

Oscar could smell his captive’s fear. It was so thick in the air that he could practically taste it. And it made him giddy. He hadn’t touched him and the man was nearly wetting himself because of his fear. And, even though the grieving father that still was within him wanted nothing more than to kill him in the most gruesome way he could, he knew that killing was too good for this man.

As Oscar sat on his haunches, his face just inches from Liam’s, he knew that he could not be seen. Liam’s eyes were forever searching for a tormentor that Oscar would never allow him to see, “You know,” Oscar’s voice rang out in the dark, “this is the season of miracles, and you’re living proof of that. Pardon the pun. But, I don’t see you enjoying what Spike gave you. You still seem obsessed with the life of a vampire, and with Spike in particular. I even found you skulking around his home. Do you think he’s as obsessed with you? Do you think he’ll save you?” Oscar’s only answer was the labored breathing of a frightened man, “Or will he let you rot, because of what he knows you did? I don’t know what I’d do. If I was suddenly back with the one I loved, after years of being gone…” he said casually, “I don’t know as I’d give you even one thought. Especially since you took something from him, something that should have been his. Tell me, Angelus…or Liam, or whatever you want to be called now…how is it you have consistently turned a season of love into a season of pain? Is it your sparkling personality? Maybe it’s your people skills? What do you think?”

Again, his answer was silence.

“Don’t worry though,” Oscar said, “It’s the season of miracles. Maybe you still have one or two left.”

Joni liked snuggling in her Papa’s lap. His chest made no sound, just like her Daddy’s, and that made her feel safe. She snuggled in closer; he smelled like hot chocolate. She liked that smell, “Show me, Papa?” she asked.

He shook his head and his eyes crinkled a little at the corners as he looked at her. He bounced her on his knee and sighed, “Joni, you know I can’t. It’s against the rules.”

She pouted, “But Papa…I know already,” she sniffed, her big brown eyes shining up into his dim bluish-grey ones, “in my heart. I won’t tell, I promise. Just this once, rumble for me, like Daddy does. He doesn’t do it, because he thinks it will scare me,” she put her ear to the old man’s chest, and his arm wrapped around her protectively, “But that sound makes me safe. Everything else is scary. Something’s not right, Papa,” she started to cry, “Please show me. Make it safe, Papa. Please? I won’t tell. Please?”

He sighed in defeat. There was no use arguing with her. He was lost; he had lost, and they both knew it.

He would never deny her even the tiniest bit of comfort, if he could provide it to her, “All right,” he sighed, “But just this once,” breathing in the scent of talcum powder that clung to her hair.

Joni squealed with delight as the lines on the old man’s face changed, and she smiled up at him when the comforting roar sang in the air and his eyes glowed of amber.

As Buffy watched Jonina while she slept, she noticed a faint smile crossed her face and she held her toy rabbit tightly. She looked so peaceful that she hated to wake her. She burrowed further into her sleeping bag, “Daddy…” she murmured.

Buffy knew that there was no reason to be hurt by Joni’s unconscious plea. Her Daddy was the only other she had known- for years. It made perfect sense that she would ask for him.

Still, every time she called out for him, it only brought the fact that she had missed so much of who Joni was and what had shaped her further to the front of her mind and heart. There was no escaping it, Spike knew things about Joni and lived experiences with her, which she couldn’t touch. And, that hurt her…just a little.

Joni must have sensed that someone was in the room with her, because she began to stir. Her eyes opened sleepily and she looked up at her mother, who was standing in the doorway of her little room, framed by the late morning light.

She grinned brightly at her, “You look pretty, Mommy,” she said as she wriggled out of her sleeping bag.

Buffy was glad that Stephen had remembered to buy some young girl’s pajamas, because having Joni back had been a shock in so many ways; the nursery was prepared for a baby but not a young girl. She hadn’t expected this. Stephen had, but only because he’d been through it himself.

She looked very pretty in her pale yellow nightgown, “Thank you Joni,” Buffy said softly.

“Daddy’s trying to remember, Mommy. He really is,” she said earnestly, as she scooted out of the top of her sleeping bag, “It’s just hard because you were asleep for so long.”

Buffy was confused, “I was…what, Joni?”

“You were asleep, for a long time. But then, you woke up, and Daddy wants it to be a long time before you go to sleep again,” she said sweetly and guilelessly.

Buffy stepped into the room and knelt so that she was at eye level with her daughter. She was very unsettled by her words. It sounded as if…but how can she know, “Who told you this, Dovie?”

It was only when Joni’s brown eyes became the size of saucers that Buffy realized that a variation of Spike’s pet name for her had blurted out of her mouth. A pet name that, as far as she knew, Spike had only shared with his daughter through the sterile windows of a neonatal intensive care unit.

The expression on Joni’s face told Buffy that she must have heard it more than once, and that it was something special between them.

Buffy held her breath. How would she react?

She had her answer when a large grin spread across her face, “My Daddy called me that! You remember!”

Buffy shook her head, saddened, “No Sweetheart,” she said softly, “I don’t. I heard your Daddy call you that once; before you went away. Do you know where you were, Joni?”

Her face scrunched in thought, then she shook her head, “I don’t really know. But Papa kept me safe, until Daddy came.”

“Papa?”

Joni nodded, “He looked like Daddy…but…he had more lines.”

Buffy saw, in her mind, the man who had told her what he had lost there. The one that told her how much Spike had sacrificed for her, in that world.

Could it all have been true?
******************************************************

Oscar was right. There was no reason that Spike would rescue him. If he did remember him at all, Liam was sure that any memories he did have of him would be buried beneath all the other horrors he’d seen in X’yxeth.

He knew he had no hope of rescue. No hope of getting out of here. Liam clenched his fist and slammed it aimlessly through the dark until it came down hard on the concrete beneath him and a bright, burning pain shot up through his arm, making him roar in pain.

“Careful,” Oscar intoned sincerely, “you’re human now, and very breakable,” he hissed in sympathy, “I’m sure that hurt. And don’t worry…you will be rescued,” there was a long silence, filled only by Liam’s labored breathing, “After all, you know something Buffy doesn’t. Something that is very crucial to Spike’s ultimate fate and well-being. It’s something you’ve always known. And, you had a chance to avoid all of this, by telling Buffy what you knew. But, you didn’t. You kept silent, by design. You know something about vampires that even her Watcher doesn’t know,” the darkness rang with laughter, “Although what the Watchers don’t know could fill volumes!” his voice became softer, more contemplative, and Liam couldn’t help but be reminded of Spike, and his demeanor as a fledgling; it was something that he had beaten out of him, to make him a monster, “Why didn’t you tell them? Was it an attempt to keep William under your thumb?” he waited for a reply, and upon receiving none, continued bitterly, “Don’t you worry Liam. You will be rescued because you’re the only one who can save him.”
******************************************************************************

“Joni,” Buffy asked anxiously, “where is Papa now?”

Joni bit her lip, “I don’t know. I wish he was here.”

“Do you think your Daddy remembers Papa?”

“I don’t know. I think so, though,” her eyes lowered, “He’s scared,” she whispered, “I am, too. Daddy doesn’t want you to be sick. And Papa doesn’t want that.”

Buffy tried to remember what Homer had said. If it * was * real…, “Is Daddy afraid of Papa?”

Joni nodded.

Buffy blinked and straightened to stand, her hand out at her side, waiting for Jonina’s small hand. She closed her fingers around her child’s hand, “Well, remember those presents I promised you?”

Joni nodded eagerly.

“Your Daddy’s downstairs…”

Buffy didn’t even finish the thought before a streak of yellow fabric disappeared down the stairs, and she heard pearls of childlike laughter rising upward, accompanied by a soft purring sound.

Buffy walked quietly down the stairs and was comforted by what she saw. It was true; Spike might not have understood much, but making his child happy didn’t require anything. It was effortless.

She smiled, watching Spike holding Joni in his lap, beaming happily as she tore at the bright paper and ribbons on the boxes.

He was laughing at her excitement as she discovered what treasures were hidden in the boxes. Joni was a child, perhaps for the very first time, and Spike was sharing in her joy.

And when she saw his eyes meet hers, the softness she saw let Buffy know that now he knew- if he didn’t before- that he was home.

Oscar watched Liam as he slept, and his fingers itched to just reach across the small space and feel his warm flesh under his hand. He wanted so much to feel the life going slowly out of him. He put his hand gently to the man’s throat. Don’t want to wake him. He could feel the tiny pinpoint of life as it thrummed through Liam’s system. It would be so easy to choke him. He doesn’t even know I’m here- just squeeze, and it’s all over. Then I won’t have to hear Diana screaming for me. I’m so sorry Rabbit…I’ll make it right.

But Oscar knew that if he did give in and let the demon sway him, his brother would be lost. So, his vengeance would have to wait.

Oscar slowly drew his fingers away from the man’s throat, even though the warmth of his skin called to him. It harmonized with the blood in his veins making the urge almost impossible to resist. He shook his head, feeling something in the pit of his stomach. Something that was close to revulsion; and he was amazed at how unaware the man was as he slept.

Why should he have learned anything? He’s always been reckless. He never gave a thought to anything but his obsession…
**************************************************************

29 December 1872-

This was madness and he knew it. The constables had been here. The undertaker had taken her away. He knew he should be comforting Mary but… he could not do it. He just could not bring himself to leave this stable. He could not bring himself to leave the straw, or the slight indentation he could still see in it, that told him where she had died.

He could not leave, because she was here. The scent was here, and so was…the blood. His eyes darted to the pale brown stain that was stark against the golden of the straw.

Rage shot through him, blurred his vision. * I will find whoever did this, Rabbit. I will find them, and make them pay. I promise. *

As his tears began to flow, alone here in the dark, Oscar was grateful that the Dustin boy was there to take care of Mary. *He has such a warm heart, and mine is dead. It died with her. I cannot make it beat again, not for my dear wife, or anyone. It beat only for Diana. She is no more, and so my heart will still. It shall never quicken again. *

The scent of tears filled the air, and drifted out into the night and called to Drusilla as she lingered, waiting to make her Daddy pay for smashing such a pretty poppet.
*****************************************************

Buffy tried to find the joy in watching Joni open her presents and seeing her joy reflected in his eyes and in the laughter that seemed so easy for him when she was with him. She wanted to get lost in the sweet lullaby of brightly colored paper and shining ribbons. Blues and whites and yellows and scarlet danced before her eyes in her frenzy to uncover the toys she’d been denied.

She tried, and she wanted so much to forget what Joni had said, so innocently, “…you were asleep for so long…”

But, how could she know?

“One hundred forty-seven days yesterday; one hundred forty-eight today, except today doesn’t count. Does it?”

Could he have told her?

She tried, but she couldn’t do it. She wanted to comfort him, but in order to do that she had to know something of what it was like for him.

It was obvious that Spike went through so much in that place. Things that, she didn’t know if she could touch, or even if she wanted to. But she had to try.

And, she knew there was only one person that could help her break through to comfort him. There was one person who knew Spike better than she did, now.

Joni.

She hated to intrude on their communion. It was obvious from the way Spike held her and in the way he looked at her while he murmured softly, that he missed her. Every time she squealed with delight or laughed, Spike’s face brightened as if he’d made the most wonderful discovery. And, his eyes sought hers, they clouded over, his jaw twitching like she remembered it had when she had somehow tapped into a deep seeded emotion; something he could not put a voice or a name to.

Buffy sighed and walked over to the two of them as they held each other close, sitting on the floor amidst the boxes and ribbons. Joni looked up at her mother, and as her eyes grew large at the cornucopia of gifts, most of which Buffy knew her little girl had never seen before; Heck, I don’t know if I’ve seen all of this before, she thought as she looked around at the toys that were strewn about the floor. She heard the tiny breath as Joni’s little voice sounded in her ear, “Mommy,” she asked, “what is this?”

She wasn’t sure if Joni meant one thing in particular, or the experience as a whole, but either way, Buffy was sure it was overwhelming for her- for both of them, really. She smiled, her eyes drifting to follow Joni’s as they fell on the tiny bed that was in amongst the toys, “That,” she said confidently, “is a ‘Big Girl’s’ bed.”

Fright passed briefly in her eyes, and she whispered, “Can I still keep my bed?” her eyes lowered as if she were ashamed, “I like my bed,” her voice quivered, “It reminds me of home…” her innocent eyes looked up again, “I’m sorry Mommy.”

Buffy’s heart squeezed a little as she gasped, “Oh no, baby…You can keep your bed. No one’s going to take it from you.”

As she spoke, Buffy noticed that Spike had drawn closer to her as if his nearness would reassure her. He may not understand what’s being said, but he knows she needs him. Maybe…Buffy bit her pensively, and knelt so that her eyes were even with Joni’s, “It’s scary here, isn’t it?” she asked gently.

Joni nodded, her eyes wide.

“I bet you’re glad you have your bunny, and your Daddy, aren’t you?” she nodded in empathy, smiling at the toy rabbit she still held tightly in her arms, “What’s his name?”

“Spike,” she said.

Buffy’s eyes locked with the toy’s namesake, and it was clear, from the look in his eye, that he understood at least some parts of what his daughter had said, “Really? That’s neat!” she breathed, looking back into her daughter’s eyes, “Did… ‘Papa’ give him to you?”

She nodded wordlessly and a bit timidly.

The frightened look in Joni’s eyes tightened Buffy’s throat, “Joni, do you like cocoa?”

Joni nodded excitedly, “Papa liked it too?”

Buffy’s eyes flittered up to Spike’s, “I bet he did. Well, I do too. Do you want to share some with me, and Daddy too? You could tell me about home…?”

She nodded eagerly in agreement.
****************************************************

Oscar looked down into Liam’s face as he slept, oblivious to just how close he had come to death…again, and shook his head in something near to pity, “You really should have kept a better eye on Drusilla,” he whispered, “But, I am very glad you didn’t…”

Buffy was amazed at just how big Joni’s eyes got at the sight of the tiny kitchenette of the little apartment she and Spike had shared, before he’d left to find her; and her heart hurt a little as she saw Joni hold Spike’s neck tighter as he carried her to the table for her cocoa, “What’s the matter, Sweetheart?”

“It’s just…It’s so big!”

Buffy remembered her brief time in that little cabin. A cabin that was essentially one small room, and she smiled, “I know, but Daddy’s here, right? You know he would never let anything bad happen to you,” she watched as Joni’s eyes drifted down again, as if in thought, Joni sighed and looked at her mother, “I know you won’t either, Mommy…I’m sorry.”

Buffy’s chest tightened and she turned her back, hurrying to pull out a chair for her to sit on and not wishing to have either Spike or Joni see her shaking hands that had a very tight and painful grip on the chair, “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Joni,” she said in a quivering voice, “But I’m glad you know that, even though it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you,” she turned again to face them, and noticed Spike’s head tilting in a very familiar way, his eyes softening as he looked at her. Stepping clear of the chair, she wanted nothing more than to grasp them both and hold on desperately even as Spike softly moved past her and placed Joni on the chair then turned it and slid it slowly under the table.

Buffy watched as he tenderly kissed the top of Joni’s head then walked around and pulled out one of the empty chairs at the other side of the table and waited. He stood there for a beat, his eyes locking with hers, at first there was a confident look in them but the longer she stood there, not knowing what he expected of her, the more she saw trepidation crowd the confidence out of his gaze.

It wasn’t until Joni spoke up, in a breathlessly hopeful voice, that Buffy knew what to do, or even remembered that she was in the room, “Mommy, I know this,” she said confidently, “It’s from the fairy tales Papa told me. You…are supposed to sit, then we can talk.”

Suddenly Buffy felt incredibly stupid, and blushed because of it. She knew he saw her blush when his mouth quirked upward in a sly smirk, and he arched an eyebrow before his eyes lowered again, as he still waited for her.

She rushed to do as her little girl asked, nearly tripping over herself in her rush to do so, “Well, that was silly of me, wasn’t it?” she asked as she pulled her chair back under the table.

She expected Spike to grumble some sort of disapproval as he straightened up and took the seat beside her, but instead she felt the breeze of a soft purr brush her skin as his movement shifted to somewhere behind her, near the stove.

Buffy wasn’t sure why, but she wasn’t worried. The action of preparing cocoa seemed second nature to him, “Daddy’s done this before?” she asked Joni.

“Yes,” Joni nodded eagerly, “Papa showed him how. My Daddy’s very smart.”

Buffy nodded. Yes, he is. Especially if Papa is who he said he was. I still have to figure out how Willow did what she did… “Do you remember very much about Papa?”

“Not much,” she admitted shyly, “He’s mostly in my dreams now. And he glows.”

Buffy was concerned, “He glows?”

Joni nodded, and Buffy tried to shake an unconscious feeling of dread. She was completely unaware that what she had just said was anything but normal. She had no way of knowing what had happened the last time her Mom saw her Daddy glow, “In my dreams I’m a big girl and I see the fairy tales in my head. It hurt, at first, Papa told me…when he first learned to glow,” Joni said, as she watched anxiously as Spike walked over to her with the kettle of steamed milk to pour into her waiting cup, “But, he’s happy now. And, he’s happy I’m here, and that you don’t have to be sick.”

Buffy sensed Spike’s uneasiness with this topic, and saw it in his eyes as she slowly straightened; she saw raw pain flit across his gaze as he slowly shook his head, as if in warning, “Well, I’m happy about that too, Joni,” her eyes drifted back to the child, “What else do you remember?”

“I remember what it was like when you weren’t there,” Joni’s eyes misted with tears, “Daddy was so sad. I wanted to help,” she whispered, her lip quivering, “but I was too little…But, in my dreams, I’m big. I tried to help. But, I got stuck.”

Buffy’s breath caught. Everything Jonina was saying, she’d seen in her own dreams. Everything fit with what Homer had told her. And now she knew…

It was true, all of it.

“…Papa caught me…and kept me safe, until Daddy and you came to get me.”

Buffy’s mind spun. It all fit. The Slayers’ illness and her dreams… but something was missing. It was something important…but what was it?

“Do you know where Papa is now?” she asked

She shook her head, as she sipped on her cocoa, “No,” she said simply, “And, he won’t tell me. I’ve asked. He says he doesn’t matter now,” she bit her lip, and Buffy knew she was about to cry; she was biting her lip to try and keep the tears from falling, “But he matters to me,” her little voice rose in distress, “I miss him.”

“I know you do,” Buffy agreed, “He protected you for a long time. Didn’t he?”

Spike, who had been dutifully keeping watch over the scene, instantly sprang into action, feeling her distress. He knelt next to her chair, spinning it so that Joni was facing him and picked her up, and held her close to him. Buffy could see that he was struggling to find the words he needed in order to comfort her, and she waited for him to say them, because she needed them too.

“No, Dove…” he said gently, his voice a near whisper, “love you…more than…” his jaw twitched in frustration as he searched for the words, “You…” his eyes locked again with Buffy’s and then went back to Joni, “You…” he touched his chest and shook his head, a sad smile played on his lips, “Nothing…hurts…” he tapped his chest, “you’re here…forever.”

The scene and the words touched something deep inside of Buffy, and she sighed at the warmth that infused her.

That warmth quickly became a numbing cold as she watched Jonina’s small face contort with tears that wouldn’t stop, “Daddy, I know Papa hurts but he won’t tell me how to fix it! I don’t remember how to fix it. I want you to be happy, Daddy; Papa too,” Spike pulled her gently to him, and she cried into his neck, “I know Rabbit knows how to fix it but I don’t know how to find him.”

Buffy had no idea what was worrying her daughter, but that didn’t matter. She was worried. That was enough.

It was then that she remembered that Joni had said that something wasn’t right, and seeing the anguish on Spike’s face, something told her that he felt it too.

In that moment she made them both a promise. She didn’t know what “Rabbit” meant to Joni, or even if he was real; the only rabbit she knew of was Joni’s toy, but that didn’t matter. She would find him, no matter how long it took, because he knew something…something important.

Something that was critical to her family’s happiness. And, she would find that thing, whatever it was, no matter what it cost her.

Just how her heart was still able to beat within her chest, Buffy didn’t know. How could she still be able to breathe when Joni’s face was red and puffy from crying?

It was too fast…She’s so little…Stupid Buffy…

Spike was looking at her, his eyes wide with pain and perhaps a horror, as if she’d just driven a stake straight to his heart. He looked so betrayed. His eyes were begging her to help him stop her tears.

But, she didn’t know how. And, the longer Joni cried, her face buried against Spike’s neck, the more Buffy could feel the pain in her heart. It felt as if Joni had reached inside her and pulled out her heart and held it in her hand. It had stopped and the only thing that could start it up again, the only way she would be able to breathe again was if Joni stopped crying.

How do I make her stop crying? How did my world become so small? Spike’s eyes shone as if Joni’s heart were his. And he would gladly give her his if only she would dry her tears. He was cradling her on his lap as he sat on the tiny chair in the kitchenette, murmuring to her, soothing her in the only way he knew how, with his closeness if not his warmth.

As he held her, his hand holding her gently to the crook of his neck, Spike sought the only comfort he could. He sought her eyes, and silently begged her for help.

…Mom would know…Mom always knew. She knew just what to say. How to…

It was then that it hit her, like a bolt of lightening.

Oh…* I’m* the Mommy… “Sweetheart,” she whispered as she rushed to kneel at Spike’s feet, speaking both to father and daughter, her gaze shining up at his, “I’ll fix it…” she gave her oath to them both, “I’ll fix it. I know I will.”

Joni’s sobbing hitched and her body heaved with the breath her sorrow had denied her, and Buffy felt her heart start again. Eyes that were truly innocent reached out to her and begged her to make it better. Begged her to make this strange world safe and warm.

Joni asked for her Mother’s help, and even before her little voice could say the words, “Mommy, you promise?” Buffy already had.

“Yes,” she pledged softly, coming up on her knees and began patting her back in soothing circles, she pressed her ear to her back and took comfort in her heartbeat. She closed her eyes and got lost in the tiny bliss of that sound; now she thought she understood what the small signs of life must be like for Spike, and she was in awe of his strength once more, “I promise,” she whispered.
****************************************************************

Oscar watched as Liam slept on, though fitfully, and he shook his head. He could taste the salt of his perspiration and tears. The perspiration he expected. After all, this was Los Angeles in December. He expected the tears to break through. Tears of fear, and even of anger. Humans did that- it was one sign that the body was nearing extremis, but these tears tasted different. They were bitter, almost sour on his tongue.

These were tears of a different kind.

These were tears of regret. And that astonished Oscar. It fascinated him, and infuriated him, “The world is your oyster, Liam,” he mused, quietly watching him slowly awaken, the fog of one nightmare giving way to another. He shook his head, as he helped Liam sit up, and handed him a bottle of spring water, “Drink that,” Oscar ordered, “I wouldn’t want you dying on me, now would I?”

Liam’s hands shook as he warily took the water, eying his captor with lethal intent. Oscar chuckled at Liam’s tenacity, or was it stupidity, “Oh, come on,” he said easily, “Do you think I’m that stupid?” he smirked as he shook his head, “That’s plain old, everyday spring water. Not a thing holy about it,” he winked, “You can’t melt me with that, much as I know you’d love to,” he shrugged a shoulder apathetically, “Sorry. I watch vampire movies too, you know. Some of them are actually quite good,” he admitted cheerily, but then winced, as if in pain, “Some though,” his breath shuddered, “I’d rather drink rats’ blood than sit through,” he sat an his haunches, and his amber gaze flickered once again in his eyes, “Drink up, Liam, and when you’re through…perhaps you could tell me, what it is that you have to regret, now…”

The question was met with a cold silence, a silence that was numbing, even for Oscar, despite the heat.

“Not going to answer?” Oscar shrugged, “I don’t blame you really, not when there’s an entire dimension populated by the mistakes you’ve made. It’s no wonder Spike is speechless. If he saw you right now, he’d kill you and I can’t let that happen…” there was a happy, murderous glint in his eyes, “At least not yet. So, let’s narrow it to regrets from this plane, shall we? Let’s see,” he ticked them off on his fingers, “There’s Drusilla, Darla, Buffy, Cordy, Nina and Fred, and don’t forget little Diana,” Oscar winked at the man, in mocking admiration, “Quite the womanizer, aren’t you?” he continued, “But then there’s Connor, Wesley, Lawson, and Spike. There’re almost too many to count, even here. I really should stop and let you eat in peace,” he stood up and turned to leave, but then paused and turned back, shaking his head, surprised at his own thoughtlessness, Oscar touched his forehead as if to recapture the name that had escaped, by design, from his memory, “Silly me,” he laughed, “How could I forget little Jonina?” he shook his head again in sympathy, “Poor thing. She’s so small. Can’t do it all on her own. You can help,” he nodded encouragingly, “But you won’t do that,” his tone was mocking and condescending, “Because then you might have to give up being human. And we wouldn’t want you to lose, would we…?”
******************************************************

When Joni had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep, and Spike felt it was safe to do so, Buffy watched as Spike’s façade began to fall. She saw, in his eyes, that he was beginning to understand what had happened to him.

As he closed the door to Joni’s room, sure that she was secure, he reached for her. She held him up as he crumbled.

She held tightly to him, as he did her, not caring that he had forgotten his own strength, or that there might be bruises later, from his grasp as he sobbed and shuddered. She had done much worse than bruise his flesh. This was the least she could do to repay him for a kindness she knew she didn’t deserve.

“Spike, I meant what I said,” she cooed gently into his ear, “I promise, I’ll find a way to fix this.”

I just don’t now how…Please… she privately pleaded with whoever, or whatever was watching over them, if there was anyone at all. Please, tell me how…

She didn’t know if anyone had heard her; or if she should even believe at all, but she tried her best to comfort him.

It was small. The change was almost insignificant, really. But, she had been heard. And, it didn’t matter if she believed or not, because love didn’t need to be believed. And somewhere, something very small, believed in her.

It believed in her so much that it broke through the darkness that had surrounded it, and became something no army on earth could stop.

And that had never happened before. And, in all of history, it never would again.

I thought you'd never ask, Love.

Buffy was exhausted. And mad at herself. I’ve got no right to be *anything*! For me, it’s been six weeks. That’s not as long as some of Dad’s business trips were. Yet, * I’m * the one that’s tired…No… she poured another cup of coffee, and picked up the raggedy bunny that had been left on the table when Spike carried Joni to bed, and felt the soft “fur” as she petted it absently. It looked old, worn through in some places. This little rabbit had been through many adventures with her, and she had grown so big. So many years had gone by.

How many were there, for her, and for him too? Oh Spike... How many were there? How many…?

As she felt the softness of the toy in her hand, she began to wonder who had made it for her. It didn’t feel like a synthetic fabric, it felt natural. Almost like suede. That’s when she realized- it was suede- it just wasn’t from any animal she recognized. The tiny toy had been made of the skin of an animal from that place.

It had been softened, and stitched together by loving hands. Someone had made it just for her.

Did you make this, Spike? Her heart ached at the thought of it. Of course he had made it for her. There was no one but him. He took care of her, for years. There was no one else.

Buffy remembered what she saw of that tiny cabin, and there wasn’t much inside of it. Yet, she knew that Joni had food and clothing and a warm place to stay.

Buffy could remember the howling wind and snow in that place, and it was dark. It seemed to be dark everywhere she looked, everywhere but around the tiny cabin.

She could remember the look on his face. It was as if he knew the warmth he had was leaving him- and still, he let them go.

Buffy began to wonder if he regretted it, if he had anyone, or anything to protect him there, while Joni was gone. Then suddenly it came to her. Willow’s spell had allowed her to see something extraordinary. She could remember the words even now, and his hushed, hoarse voice as he spoke them, as though he didn’t quite believe it was true:

“I shouldn’t have hands, or feet…or eyes. Oh, God! I protect him…I am the part that keeps him sane. I’m his scream…you have to hear him. Help us.”
*****************************************************************

“Oscar please,” Liam begged, “Let me go. I-I swear,” his eyes lowered in shame, “I’ll tell them. You know Spike is in no condition to…”

“Oh,” Oscar hissed, “now you’re concerned! That’s a new one, that is! You are such a liar. All the other times,” he gave a weary sigh, “And believe me, there have been many times, one little girl, in fact, an entire universe, was nothing if it got in the way of what you wanted! It didn’t matter who was in pain, all you had was cryptic answers,” he squinted at Liam and sneered in disgust, “But now it matters?” he scoffed, “That’s just typical of you. Spike wouldn’t need my help if it weren’t for you! But he doesn’t really matter, does he? All that matters is your humanity! But then, that’s not true either, is it?” he regarded the man with a mixture of hatred and pity, “Did you know that, as disgusting as I think it is to think about, if he’d been well, and whole, Spike would have rescued you by now? That’s how big his heart is. But, if you actually wanted to be human again, you would have taken it when it was offered to you the first time”

This information was too much for Liam to take, and in his anger, the monster he had been showed itself in his demeanor, “What are you talking about?” he snapped, his blood boiling, “You’re just an accountant! Why do I have to answer to you?”

Oscar’s blue eyes widened at the arrogance that Liam was displaying, “That little blunder with Illyria…When you tried to pull Joni back? And let’s not forget the mess she made when she tried to rescue Gunn from that ‘holding’ dimension. You really did make a mess, didn’t you?” he continued, his venom strengthening as it became clear Liam was as dense as he looked, “Oh little brother,” Oscar rolled his eyes and huffed in frustration, “you were right. I can’t believe it comes to this…” his eyes softened as he relived a memory.

DECEMBER 25, 2027-

There would be no celebration this Christmas, just as there was none long ago when his little Diana had been taken from him. The dream had died with William. And, he knew who was responsible.

Spike had made the witch swear that Jonina would never discover the true origin of the virus that had killed both of the people who she called her parents, and when he’d died that winter morning, just as the dawn was breaking, Oscar made his own vow. If Joni ever did find out, he would do whatever he needed to do, to protect her…

Oscar’s voice trailed off as he remembered William’s fevered rantings, near the end. Something about dimensional rifts and magic, it was all just too much to take.

Then, when William died, he began his research on the amulet that Wolfram and Hart had given Angelus, which he then, like the good puppet he was, placed in the Slayer’s hands. She then, unwittingly, and painfully, eliminated the Higher Plane’s true champion.

It just took her years to do so.

When Oscar had discovered that Joni had actually succeeded in going back through the rift that the amulet had made, he saw his opening.

He had existed long enough to be able to go back without widening the tear- and he’d made a promise- one that he would keep.

It was just too much to take. The denial was screaming from his eyes, and something in the vampire just snapped. When it did, he dealt the man a fierce backhand blow, and was satisfied when he heard the fragile bones splinter, “Are you still going to insist that all of that wasn’t real?” Oscar asked loudly, wanting to be heard and understood above Liam’s howl of pain, “Joni will find it, I’ll make sure of that. One way or the other…I am going to spare them years of pain. Now, whether you help that along or not…?” he shrugged and his voice lowered to a whisper, “Doesn’t matter. A thing like that…” Oscar shook his head, “It’s like sunshine. It’s never happened…not to us,” his eyes grew hard as they looked at the pitiful man in front of him, “But it happened to him. I want to make sure you don’t ruin it for him.”
**************************************************

Buffy knew what she had to do. So why did she feel like she shouldn’t?

But there was no other way, and Spike was so broken. She hoped she wouldn’t disturb them as she made her way down to the dojo. She remembered the words that Willow had spoken in that karaoke bar and she whispered them as she stood in the empty space of the workout room, “May the protecting energy that enfolds the Slayers, the unseen force that guides,” her lips became dry as she began to feel the energy sparking around her.

But something was different. It seemed weaker this time. She felt her blood speeding through her as she continued, “…The celestial energy that binds all beings…please,” she begged as the tears slipped down her face, “come to my aid….”

Buffy suddenly felt a cold rush of wind and felt a presence like the one she’d felt before she’d been pulled from Heaven.

This was divine. There was no mistaking it…

She opened her eyes and beheld the greying, kindly, weeping eyes of the one she’d banished. The old man who was so much more, she knew now, than he seemed, and she spoke his name, “Homer,” she choked, as she watched his sad eyes burning brightly; she used the name he knew, but now she understood the miracle of this. She knew who he had been, and what he was going to be.

She just hoped she would have the strength to stand by and watch the transformation. Her throat was tight as she whispered, “Homer, I don’t know if he’s strong enough…If I’m strong enough,” she lowered her eyes away from the light that flowed from his form now, “Please,” she said softly, “tell me what to do. Help me.”

His voice was almost broken as he spoke, “Oh Love…it’s not in your hands now. I would that it were. But…how it ends? That’s up to him, now.”

Buffy was a bit dazzled, both by the light that seemed to emanate from the space around where he stood, and by what he said. She squinted, trying to reduce the pain she felt, “Homer…” she stammered, “up to whom…?” her breath caught in her chest when she heard a familiar chuckle accompanied by the haunting mannerism that was his, and his alone; he’d tilted his head in contemplation.

That small movement told her who this really was, and it only made her wonder. How much longer? How much more…before this is his reward? And, will I be able to let it happen? Can I let him rest?

“Proper English,” Homer smiled, “How very un-Slayer of you, Elisabeth.”

The heat rose in her face, and her eyes darted to the floor, “My name…” she whispered, “Is it still for him only?”

“Names aren’t really that important. But, right now, they’re all he has. For him, they help define him and his world, so I let him keep them,” his eyes glinted at her, “You know who I am, in your heart; and yet you don’t say it. Why?”

“I’m still in awe, I guess,” Buffy admitted.

Homer grinned knowingly, nodding his head slightly, “We’ve both been there and back, Love.”
******************************************************************

He could remember the light, could see it, just out of his reach. He tried to reach up to the light but the burning took his strength from him.

There was pain. So much pain, that he wanted to cry out, but the fire took his voice. But he could still see the light. * I’ll do anything! Just let me see the light. That’s all that matters- keeping the light. It’s so beautiful and warm… Anything for Her…just stay. Buffy…please. *

The light touched him sometimes. And, the pain was stunning, almost as bright as the light. * Oh…Buffy…please. Don’t leave me…*

Slowly, the nova that drew him to it became a hazy corona, one that he strained to see. His body burned with the effort. He had to reach the light before it faded, and left him in the cold.

*Buffy…I’m so cold…can’t see you. Please. Where did you go? *

The pain of the fading light was worse than the burning, worse than the dark and the cold. The fire that consumed him took his scream…

Joni woke up and knew something was wrong. She looked around her darkened room. Her eyes darted to the band of colors on the wall, and the toys in her closet. There was so much here, yet something was missing.

Her Daddy was scared, and he was hurting. Sometimes the bad things came in dreams.

Are they here, Daddy? Are they here…?

She had to help him.

She carefully climbed out of her sleeping bag, and looked around for Spike. She was never without him. He would never have left her alone. He loved her too much.

As she turned the doorknob, and moved the giant door back, she noticed the light that was coming from downstairs. She wanted the light, but her Daddy needed her. He needed the light more.

Maybe…if I’m good…I can make it stay… “Don’t worry Daddy,” she said softly as she crept by the place where her Mommy and Daddy slept, “Spike will help. I just need to find him. He loves me too. He’ll stay for me. I can make the bad things stay away, Daddy,” she frowned in determination, her voice tightening and hurting her chest because she knew her Daddy was hurting, “I promise.”

The light pulled at her. She went down the stairs, drawn by the light she remembered.

Spike was rescued from the terror of sleep by the soft cooing of a dove from the other side of the door. She sounded so sad, and even though he felt a pain deep within him, he followed her pull because she needed him.
***********************************************************************

“Are you real?” Buffy asked.

“Yes, Elisabeth. I am real,” Homer’s eyes twinkled dimly, “I’m very real. And, even if you hadn’t called,” he spoke softly, his greying eyes drifting askance, to a point beyond her, “I would have come,” Buffy couldn’t help but notice the tremor of emotion in his voice, “I couldn’t stay away…” he began moving slowly, as if he were being pulled by something. With shining eyes and aged, raged speech, he pleaded with her, “Help us, Elisabeth,” Homer closed his eyes, and Buffy was suddenly overcome with a sense of vertigo and her stomach sank as she watched the old man falter and stumble, “Please…” he gasped.

Buffy felt tears sliding down her cheeks. The Slayer dreams…Oh, God! “…How?” she begged, her voice becoming strident with desperation.
*********************************************************************************

Oscar wasn’t sure how long he’d been here with Liam, but he could see, and through the bond of the Aurelius line, the line he, and Angelus, was a part of, was able to feel, he could tell that his time with Liam was coming to an end.

He felt his brother’s pain- as acutely as he did little Diana’s.

He looked, with a combination of revulsion and pity, at the disheveled man that was his captive, “Well Liam,” he sighed, his amber gaze blazing in the dark, “It seems that, though I want it so bad I can taste it, vengeance is not mine,” his tone of voice made the man’s blood quicken and he began to wonder if he was indeed about to die, “…And,” Oscar continued, his tone dripping with sarcasm and deepened because of his fangs, “I really hope that I didn’t break your jaw, because you will be talking,” he grinned at the frightened look in the man’s eyes and the sheen of sweat that shone on his face, “You see, Lawson was on the nose. But he didn’t know it,” he shook his head and clicked his tongue, “And I know you didn’t tell him. You always wanted to be superior, didn’t you? Unfortunately,” Oscar’s tone turned grim, “you get to live. I’ve kept an eye on Spike, through all the ebb and flow of the waves. But, the one thing I’ve lost track of is the one thing he needs. I’ve lost track of the amulet; but somehow, I know you haven’t. It’s the key here. I know you know where it is…”
**************************************************************************************

Watching the avatar she knew was somehow a part of him stumble was like a knife in her heart. And, she wondered how she could save him, “Please tell me,” Buffy cried, as she saw his face clouding, trying to hide the pain. She stepped forward, worrying when the light around him seemed to dim, “what’s happening?”

The question died in the swell of a little girl’s voice, “Papa,” she rushed up to him, undeterred by the glow around him; she didn’t see any of that, her small hands tried to minister to him as he knelt, trying to fight off a wave of sudden nausea, she only felt his pain, “are you hurt?”

Buffy watched with glistening eyes, as Homer comforted her, “No, Joni,” he shook his head as he smiled, “I’m just an old man,” Homer’s eyes drifted to Buffy’s and his tone was hushed and a bit nostalgic, “You know that, and I’m tired.”

Joni’s little, sad voice filled the room, “Why did you leave us, Papa?”

Homer’s voice quivered, “I didn’t want to Joni. I’ll always be with you, you know that,” he smiled sadly, drinking in the sorrow in her dark eyes, “even if you can’t see me.”

“Why is this happening?” Buffy asked again.

The soft voice that came from behind her, rang with the same combination of grief, hope, and tears that it had in that tiny chapel in Sunnydale.

And the sound of it struck right to her heart.

“It’s the magic, Buffy,” Spike whispered, “It has consequences.”

Spike’s eyes clouded over, and the image before him shimmered. He had so hoped that it wouldn’t happen this way.

He knew Joni wouldn’t understand.

His voice croaked from disuse and emotion, “You did it,” he was astonished, “Why?”

The pain in his voice made Buffy tear her eyes from the old man in front of her to look at the one she called her husband and friend. And the look on his face was one she had seen in her dreams. She didn’t know how it was possible, but now she was staring at the face of grief.

It was her they were looking at. She was lying on the ground. And, she was dead.

Strangely, it should have hurt. She knew she was dead because her friends were all around her, and they were crying. She knew they were crying because she heard the sound. A sound unlike any she’d heard before. It sounded like an echo, like something empty would sound.

Buffy heard a voice behind her. A voice that was dead and gone. Did people have voices after they were dead? Buffy didn’t think they did. But she knew now that she was wrong because her Mom said, “Hello, Sweetheart. How are you?”

“Mommy?” she asked, putting her hands over her ears to block out the painful sound, “Is that you? Do you hear that?” she pressed her hands hard against her ears trying to block the sound. It hurt. It really hurt. It hurt so much that she was starting to cry, “What is that?” she yelled, trying to be heard over the aching wail, “Do you know?” Buffy couldn’t stand it anymore. It had to stop.

Buffy saw her Mom give a sad smile, “Yes. I do know. That’s what it sounds like when a soul breaks,” Joyce said, walking up to her daughter and hugging her, “It’s the saddest sound the angels can hear. They hear it every time a loved one dies.”

Buffy couldn’t bear it anymore. She shook her head to try and force the terrible sound out, “Oh Mommy, it hurts! I didn’t know. I thought Dawn would be all right. I didn’t know…”

“Not Dawn,” Joyce whispered, as the sound she had grown accustomed to grated against her nerves as well.

Buffy’s eyes went wide, looking at her silent friends. She had no idea that he cared this much. She moved in closer to him, to watch his face, “Xander?”

“No Buffy, not Xander.”

“Then who?” she asked.

Her mother turned around, stepping out of the way so that Buffy could see what she didn’t see before, “Look.”

She did. What she saw stunned her. He was separate, away from the others. The strong vampire, the one she counted on to protect Dawn, was gone. Buffy didn’t even recognize him. No. It wasn’t possible.

“And, why not?” Joyce asked gently, “Why isn’t it possible? He told you he loved you,” Joyce hated watching his pain and tried to keep the emotion out of her tone as she continued, “And unlike some of his kind, he has a hard time with untruths. But then, he’s always been a puzzle.”

“But, he doesn’t have a soul,” Buffy wondered at him. She knelt down to see him better; grateful she was invisible because the pain in his eyes made her ache. She could see his hand trembling as he stared, disbelievingly, at the body that lie on the ground broken and battered.

As she watched him collapse as if something had been ripped from him, she heard the roar. And suddenly, she understood, “That awful sound. It’s deafening,” she gasped, as she knew it hadn’t abated, but grew in its intensity, crushing him under its weight. She turned her wondering eyes toward her mother, “It’s him, isn’t it?” she blinked back tears, “It’s him that’s making that sound?”

Joyce nodded, “It is.”

“I didn’t know,” she sobbed for him, “I swear…I didn’t know.”

“There’s so much that this world doesn’t understand. So much that you don’t.”

He was crushed. Just like he had been on the morning she jumped from the tower. She saw the tears as they glistened in his eyes, “Spike, what is it?” she breathed.

Homer answered, looking at Joni’s frightened eyes with the love of a father, “I was needed. That’s all I needed to know.”

Tears of loss fell down Spike’s face as he slowly met his avatar in the center of the room. A look of awe came over him, and he bent to kneel at Homer’s feet, giving the seeming old man and Jonina what comfort he could.

Buffy gasped at the sight of it.

“How long?” Spike asked the old man.

“If I hadn’t come?” as she looked on, Buffy saw in Spike’s eyes the same disbelieving mix of sorrow and wonder that she’d seen when Willow had resurrected her, and she fought to make sense of it as Homer continued to speak, “Years,” he looked lovingly at Joni again, and stroked her hair with a shaking hand, “But, I couldn’t put Joni through that…”

“Papa?” Joni squeaked, horrified, “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry…”

“Oh Sweetheart,” Homer choked, “No. Don’t ever be sorry…I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Is there a way to stop this?” Spike asked.

The old man shook his head, “No,” his eyes were steel, “The alternative…” he shook his head again, and sighed, “I don’t have long.”

“You’re leaving, Papa? Why?” Joni cried, “Where are you going?” her large eyes begged, “Can I go with you?”

“No,” Homer breathed, “Your Daddy needs you,” he smiled at her, “You have to grow up and be the Slayer.”

Joni shook her head in fierce denial, tears squeezing from her closed eyes, “I don’t wanna be the Slayer! I want you!”

Buffy couldn’t help but feel sickened by what she was hearing. It was an echo of what she’d told herself, for years. She couldn’t help but wonder if this was a punishment for that spell she’d done.

“What are you?” Buffy whispered as she tried to resist the pull she felt, but somehow Homer had some kind of thrall that she couldn’t seem to fight.

Sad, aged eyes looked up at her, “Does it matter?”

Anxiety rose as Buffy continued to watch tears fall silently down Spike’s face, his jaw twitching as though he were in physical pain, “Yes, it matters!” she shrieked.

Once again Homer cowered, and looked away from her, as he had once before and Spike turned to her, his eyes a window on a barely contained fury, “Love…” he hissed as the tears continued to flow, “please…don’t ask!”

“I have to ask,” she said coldly, “What if he’s evil?” her tone was strident and desperate, bordering on anger.

“Papa’s not bad!” Joni yelped.

Spike was too stunned to comfort Jonina’s hurt. He could only stare at Buffy, his mouth agape. After he had taken a moment to absorb the shock and hurt of that statement, “Slayer…”

Buffy’s body went cold. Oh, God…What…?

“Dove,” Spike said sweetly, turning his attention to Joni, “Why don’t you go find Spike Rabbit? I think I saw him in the…uh the…” he looked up at Buffy, hoping she would supply the right word, a word he’d obviously lost to that place and had yet to claim as his own again.

Buffy lowered her eyes in shame and whispered, “He’s in the kitchen, Sweetie.”

Joni bit her lip, “Okay Daddy,” she said as she slowly got up and followed the maze back to the staircase and out of earshot.

As Buffy heard the small shuffle of her little girl’s feet, she looked at Homer, who had seemed to, somehow, weaken before her eyes. His body was visibly shuddering now, as though he’d caught a chill, and the light that surrounded him was dimmer still.

She was ashamed, “Spike, I…”

Spike’s physical closeness seemed to be the only comfort he could offer the old man, “Slayer, I don’t know how,” he turned his wide, moistened azure eyes to her, in shock himself, “I didn’t know. How could I? But, I can feel it. He’s dying. And, when he does,” he swallowed, “I’ll be the animal you always thought I was. I won’t know you, or Joni…I’ll be worse than Angelus was when he came back from Hell.”

Buffy’s heart jumped into her throat, “But what…?”

Homer gave a rasping cough, and she watched as worry took over Spike’s features, “Just sand…” Homer whispered, his words disjointed, “…That’s all I am. All I…”

“Buffy…” Spike said, his gaze still fixed on the old man, as his eyes closed in exhaustion, “I think he’s the little bit of good that’s left in me,” he looked back at her in awe, eyes wide, “The part that didn’t die…when I did.”

Buffy could see that he was scared. She’d only seen that look on his face twice before, it was there, for a fraction of a second, in the Hellmouth, and she saw it again when she awoke in the hospital, when he was afraid he would lose her; when she realized what he had lost-to save her.

And it made her stomach sink. She didn’t understand how it could be possible. She thought that maybe she was looking at one of Willow’s mistakes- this wasn’t supposed to happen. He’d even said that he shouldn’t have been here.

So, how did he get here? And, why did Spike look as though he was being slowly and silently ripped apart every time the old man coughed and shuddered?

She ignored the hot tears that wetted her face, and, almost against her will, Buffy found herself being pulled to them again, and as Homer fell forward into Spike’s arms as another fit of coughs tore through his body, she knew it was real.

She didn’t know how, but this was real.

“Homer…?” her voice was shaking as her finger’s reached for him as Spike held him, his own face frozen in horror; this isn’t real…I’m dreaming… but, when she touched his pale, time-worn face and felt the heat and the moisture of his sweat, she knew, “…Oh no. It can’t be,” she was shaking with denial, her eyes closed tight, “It just can’t be…”

Homer sat up slowly as the coughing subsided and smiled sadly at her, grateful for Spike’s support as he climbed to his feet again, borrowing his strength, as Spike had once borrowed his, “Wishes can come true. Didn’t an old gardener tell you that, once?”

Buffy gasped. It was all true, all of it. Spike might not remember. Who knew how many years had gone by since that night? But for her, the celebration of Jonina’s aborted homecoming was still fresh in her mind.

Seeing the brightness in her eyes, he knew Homer had touched a truth he couldn’t reach. But he had his own memories, and something in him told him that this was wrong. Homer had always made him feel more whole somehow, in that place.

He had eased the numbing cold and kept his hope alive when he thought he would die. His words were like a mantra, a whispered prayer, when there was no one.

“Love her and Buffy will find you, and bring you home. Remember that.” He did. At times that whispered prayer- that hope- was his only light in the darkness. And now, that hope was dimming before his eyes, “What can we do?” Spike asked, his voice a ragged croak, that left his chest aching in despair.

Buffy felt the room spin again, the colors swirled and she had to fight the blackness that threatened. She swallowed the nausea she felt, and moved quickly, turning her back to retrieve a chair from the adjacent reception area, and placed it near the old man, who looked at her with grimly thankful eyes as he took the refuge she offered, “We seem to be making a habit of this, don’t we?” she asked with a smile, trying to lighten the mood as he sat, with a weary sigh.

He nodded, his grey eyes locking with Spike’s as his jaw set in a familiar way, “Nothing you can do that you haven’t already done, William.”

Spike’s jaw twitched too, mirroring the old man’s, and something clicked in Buffy’s mind as she watched them, “No,” Spike said, firmly, “I don’t accept that. I can’t.”

His grey eyes glinted, “Some things cannot be changed, no matter how much you rail against it. And you’ve already changed so much…”

The rest of his words were cut short by Joni’s soft voice, sounding even smaller than she was, and full of fear, “Papa,” she whispered, holding her precious toy out in front of her, offering it up as a sacrifice, “I found Spike…” she gave the old man the rabbit, placing it in his lap, with confidence, she stepped back and smiled, “…maybe he can help?” she nodded, “He always helps me when I’m scared or sick. He’ll help you too, Papa. I know he will.”

The truth of the child’s statement, her belief in her father, it amazed him, and Homer could almost believe.

He looked at Joni’s toy, felt its softness and remembered. He loved her so, and would- until the end of the world. He ran his trembling fingers over the rabbit’s smooth stone eyes, stones he’d smoothed down and rounded with his own hands during that first lonely year, and murmured, “To see myself,” he said softly, “in the eyes of a child,” Homer sighed and brought his eyes to meet Jonina’s; his voice was struggling to remain even and strong, “How long have you had this, Princess?”

Joni’s eyes widened, “Since I can remember.”

Homer’s eyes softened, almost to the point of weeping, the light of tears shone brightly, but he wouldn’t let them fall, “Joni, I can’t take this…” he said as he tried to put her cherished security back in her arms.

Joni frowned and shook her head, “Yes you can,” she insisted, “You can have him. You don’t have to give him back. He wants to stay with you,” she said, her little lip quivering with loss even as the words spilled out of her, “He told me so,” she turned to Buffy and told her, “Spike’s an angel you know…”

Buffy knelt, “An angel, Joni?” her eyes flashed briefly at Spike, and then Homer, before settling on her daughter again, “Who told you this?”

“Spike,” Joni said, as though her mother had asked her if she liked cocoa.

“What exactly did he say, Sweet?” her father asked in a measured tone, as he picked her up and put her on his hip, images long forgotten, of his time at Wolfram and Hart beginning to come back to him in brief flashes.

Joni chewed her lip in thought, and her eyes beamed brightly at her Daddy as she remembered, “He said…” she bit her lip again and looked briefly at Homer, who gave an almost imperceptible nod before she looked back at her father’s expectant, patient gaze, “He said, ‘Angel would know how it happened, and how to help.’ So,” she smiled, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose, “that should be easy, right Daddy? Angels don’t hide…they glow.”

Holding his daughter tight, Spike saw the dim resignation in Homer’s eyes, and the sad, crooked smile. He saw the awe building in Buffy’s gaze and knew.

He knew that his fate rested with Liam, “Not this one,” Spike muttered, kissing Joni’s cheek before setting her down, “He likes to hide. Joni,” he said brightly, “can you tuck yourself into bed? I’ll be up in a moment,” he winked, “With one of Homer’s stories, all right?”

She pouted sadly at Homer, “Will you come up and tell me?”

His voice shook slightly as he answered her, “I’m a little tired, Princess,” he sighed, truly weary and worn, “but I’ll try,” he gave her another nod, “Off to bed, now,” Homer said softly.

“All right, Papa,” Joni said as she turned for the stairs, “I love you.”

As Joni disappeared up the stairs, Spike turned his eyes to Homer. He carefully studied the old man who had been his friend and confidant, and his voice broke in a nearly worshipful sigh, “But Angelus…” he shook his head in disbelief, “He…the legends…” Spike swallowed nervously as he looked the truth on the eye, “…They’re true?”

Homer nodded and smiled sadly, “Very, very true…”

Spike stared at Homer in silence as what he had said, as his very presence, began to sink in. As the silence grew larger, and louder, the tiny smirk grew on the old man’s face, and his eyes sparkled with a sad but impish light, “Spike,” Homer’s voice was kindly, if a bit impatient even as his heart took note of the shining blue eyes lowered in reverence; he had to admit, if only to himself, that it was strange to hear himself utter that name, now, “you remember now, don’t you?”

Seeing the odd mix of joy and terror playing in his eyes, Homer knew he did.

“Yes,” Spike said, his voice shaking with unexpressed emotion, “but once you…” the sadness overtook him, and he was unable to finish the thought. It was just as well. It was unthinkable.

The air in the room was thick with possibilities and lost opportunities, so thick that Buffy could almost see the immense weight that hung between them, seemingly poised to drop at any moment. And, no one seemed to be doing anything about it.

She could feel the weight settling on her own chest. She wanted to scream out. But, more important than that- so much more important- she wanted someone to do something.

The pressure of the weight was starting to make her teeth ache. She took a deep breath, and burst through the tyrannical wall of screaming, respectful silence, “So Homer,” Buffy stepped up, and crossed her arms over her chest, her soft voice sounding too loud in the fearful room, “How do we fix this?”

Homer’s blue-grey eyes looked at her, and Buffy couldn’t help but feel a chill at the glint of disappointment in them, “A Slayer,” he sighed, his eyes glinting a little behind his spectacles, “even now? Even after…?” his eyes lowered in resignation and he sighed again, his breath shuddering, “Of course…it’s just the way…” he raised his gaze to hers once more, “I’d forgotten. Well, to answer your question,” his voice became hardened and cold, his countenance stern as his jaw twitched slightly, “We don’t,” he looked again at Spike, and asked, wistfully, “Now, may I spend time with Jonina? It might help…ease the pain…somewhat.”

Spike’s eyes widened in shock, “You’re in pain?” his voice was barely audible as he once more knelt at the old man’s feet, a wave of kinship sweeping over him, he took hold of his hand and held it, much as he remembered holding Buffy’s so long ago.

Homer nodded, his head cocked a little at the small gesture of affection that had been bestowed so easily upon him, even though he winced with the pain he felt, “It is less than it was,” his eyes closed, “And more than it should be, because I know what I’ll miss…”

“All right, Homer,” Buffy bit out, her throat aching as her gaze bored into him, “You say that Angel-or Liam- or whatever he’s calling himself, knows what this is, and how to stop it?”

“He does. But, I do not wish it.”

“You don’t wish it?” Buffy’s voice was incredulous, but it was the pain that he saw in Spike’s eyes that gave him pause, “What gives you the right to…?”

A slow fire began to burn in Homer’s eyes as he stood and regarded Buffy, “Elisabeth, I have already told you…some things belong…some do not,” his gaze danced as he searched for the strength to continue without lowering his eyes; he sighed and whispered, “I do not. I’m only here by happenstance. The witch said it herself. I should not be…here. I am as fleeting as the light.”

“Then…where do you belong?” the words were like knives in Spike’s throat.

The look Spike saw in those dim and powerful eyes, spoke of a deep- set pain. A pain he knew, but would not voice. The man’s eyes locked with his, and Spike felt his knees begin to weaken at the sight of the devastation that was held within them.

“May I see Jonina,” Homer breathed, “Please?”

Spike nodded, fighting the tears that wanted to fall, and he gently placed his hand on Homer’s elbow; as he did so, Spike half expected his hand to pass through him as though he were air, and sighed with relief when he found that he could indeed hold him. He was substantial, “…Of course,” he said as he led the frail gentleman up the staircase.
*********************************************************************************

Oscar was no fool. He knew that Spike would not have the strength to mount a search, if he even really realized that Liam was what he needed. So he decided to make sure Liam was found.

He made sure of it by dropping Liam’s broken and battered- but certainly not dead- body on the doorstep of 80 Jennings Street.

And, as Liam groaned when his body hit the pavement, made cold both from his lack of clothing, and the cool winter night, his brain registered a whispered threat from the shadows, “It’s true.” Oscar said, “You may die before the morning comes. But, if you leave…it’s a sure bet that you will. And then, you’ll be back in the shadows where you belong,” the words held a laughing tone, “Care to take a chance?”
*****************************************************************

Homer knelt next to her, and his hand shook as he caressed her hair, running his fingers through her cinnamon and maple tresses.

It was like coming home.

Joni stirred, leaning into his touch, she sighed, “Papa?”

He nodded, “Yes, Jonina,” Homer said softly, “It’s me.”

“Can you stay, Papa?”

His throat was tight with emotion as he spoke, “I’ll stay as long as I can,” Homer looked back at Spike, who stood in the doorway, and motioned him forward with a wave of his hand, “Your Daddy and I came up to say goodnight. But,” his words smiled, “it seems that you’ve gone off to dreamland on your own, like the young lady you are. Still, Daddy wants to say it…”

“You already said it. That’s good too,” she mumbled, already half asleep.

“That’s sweet. But, Daddy needs to say it too,” Homer said as he straightened up and took a step back, letting Spike take his place at her side.

“Goodnight, Dove,” Spike whispered as he placed a light kiss at her temple.

“’Night Daddy,” Joni murmured as she fell to sleep.
***********************************************************

Buffy paced. She didn’t like how she felt now. Part of her wanted so much to trust Homer, could see the pain in his eyes, and didn’t want to add to it. But, the other part hated the way she felt when he looked at her. Hated what he represented; he made her stomach hurt.

And he was upstairs now…touching Joni as if he knew her.

She didn’t know how to feel about that.

The soft peal of the doorbell brought her out of her thoughts, and she wondered who it could be, as she made her way to the main entrance to answer it.

The sight that greeted her when she opened the door took her breath away, and made her want to scream, from both hatred and fright,”Liam,” she growled his name low in her throat.
***************************************************************

Just as the door closed softly behind them, Spike found himself trying to catch Homer as he started to collapse, “Please stay,” Spike hissed desperately into his ear as his knees folded to try and hold the old man upright.

The dead weight of Homer’s unconscious form was too much for Spike’s own weakened and overwhelmed body to support, and as he crashed to the floor, holding Homer in his arms, he cried out for help, “Buffy…!”

Hearing the terror in his voice, she left Liam, broken and bleeding, just inside the door as she slammed it shut before racing up the stairs to a terror she had yet to find.

Time slowed, like it had on that horrible morning when he was sure his world had ended. He’d been wrong then, but now, he wasn’t so sure.

Admittedly, Spike knew that he had never truly noticed the death process in humans, or his victims, but now he couldn’t escape it.

The man who had been his only lifeline, his only contact over the long and dark years when he had no other contact, no one and nothing else that looked or sounded like he remembered she did, was dying in his arms. He could feel the vital force leaving him, as strongly, and as clearly as he could hear Joni’s heartbeat, or Buffy’s breath.

Homer’s pale and time-worn face looked lifeless as Spike gently placed him on the staircase landing, his hands shaking slightly as he held the old man’s head a moment longer, desperately trying to find something familiar in the old face.

It was in this moment, the moment that time stretched on forever, but was no time at all, just as it had been on that awful morning when he saw the light go out, that he knew, and recognized- and tried not to collapse right beside him as a chill of certainty shot along his spinal nerves. Oh, God…Why? His voice shook in blazing defiance, “No,” he growled in a low whisper, “Don’t do this to her! She’s too small…She won’t understand!” Spike found his chest burning as he drew in unneeded air in huge gulping breaths, “How do I explain it to her, when I don’t even understand it?” he hissed.

And, where the bloody Hell is Buffy?

The fear he felt only lost a bit of its sharp edge when dim, blue-grey eyes slowly opened and blinked at him, “There is nothing to explain. It had to be. The magic had to be paid for. It set her free, and I couldn’t let her go…Not when…I…just couldn’t…No one else could…It had to be,” he said softly, his mouth turning up into a sad little smirk, “And, I won’t leave her…ever, or any of the Slayers. I promised,” a small cough shook his body, making Homer shut his eyes as it passed. When he opened them again, Spike could feel something tighten in his chest. It felt as if someone had taken his still heart out of his chest, breathed life into it, and then crushed the life out again, with his cruel fist.

“How can this be?” Spike asked, his voice disbelieving, “And, how do I take care of them, without you?”

Spike saw a peace in his eyes. A peace he knew he’d never be able to find himself, as he gently cradled Homer’s head as he placed it on the floor.

This can’t be happening! It’s not…I’m not…

Homer’s eyes shone a little as he looked up at him, and he nodded slightly, his words seeming to echo his own thoughts, “Always beneath…never above, isn’t that right?” there was pity in his eyes now, but it was not for his fate, it was for unrealized potential, “You’re not worthy…? Too much darkness, so much that no one will ever love you?” his head rocked to and fro on the floor, “Too weighed down; it’s too much. You can’t see…I remember…” his words became a small, painful sob.

Spike shook his head, clearly perplexed, and a little worried, at the old man’s words, “I don’t…” he whispered.

“No, you don’t,” Homer sighed, struggling to rise above the tide of unconsciousness that was once again pulling at him,” But, she did, once. It was the only way…” he paused, his mind and eyes seemed unfocused, his head drifting to one side, as it rested on the staircase landing, away from Spike’s eyes. It was then that Spike noticed that Buffy had indeed arrived at the head of the stairs, and was kneeling beside Homer, directly opposite him, near the top of the stairs, and that he was now speaking to her, not him, in the same sad, desperately resigned whisper, “…she could have her ‘Daddy’…and her Mum. The Slayer needs her family. You know that…”

Buffy nodded, “I do,” her voice choked out her agreement as she looked across at the look of dread in Spike’s eyes; she could tell that he was very close to him, and that Spike’s existence, as well as Jonina’s, might, at one time, a time that may not be ended, have depended on him, “And, you were a part of that, for a long time. You helped her, when I couldn’t,” she whispered, as she reached for Homer’s hand to offer him comfort.

Homer grasped her hand tightly, and used her presence to ground himself, as he attempted to sit up, his voice shaking but sure, “I need…” his strength waned, and his eyes searched hers.

Buffy reached around to support Homer’s back, and briefly touched Spike’s fingers, as he too braced the man’s back. She couldn’t help but notice the tremor in them, “What do you need?” she asked.

As he climbed slowly to his feet, Homer said, through ragged breaths, caused by his effort, his eyes focused on Buffy, “I need for Jonina not to see this. I can’t let her see this,” he leaned heavily on Spike as all three of them stood at the top of the stairs, “It will hurt her. She would not understand, not now. And now,” he drew a shuddering breath, “everything is so broken…”

With Spike on one arm, and Buffy on the other, Homer slowly made his way down the stairs as Spike murmured in his ear, trying to guide his footsteps, “Careful with the step there…Easy,” they reached the bottom of the stair, and Spike breathed a sigh of relief; until his eyes drifted toward the body that lie just inside the doorway, “What the bleedin’ Hell…?” he gave Homer a knowing glance and nodded, his jaw working to hold his fury in, “He did this, didn’t he?” his mouth pulled into a grim line, “I don’t know when, or how, but, he did this. I remember…you told me. Buffy,” Spike turned his eyes to her, “do what you can for our guest…”

She nodded, ducking under the old man’s arm, preparing to take on his entire weight.

“Maybe the cot,” he said quietly, as he gently shifted the man’s weight on to Buffy’s shoulders, “in the locker room?”

Buffy’s eyes twinkled as she led Homer away, and she smiled; he remembers. That’s so good, “Okay,” she said.

Liam Donovan awoke to a sight that made him question his sanity, and the possibility of a concussion. What he was seeing was impossible.

Oscar must have hit me over the head. Is this what blood loss feels like? Oh, God…is that…Spike? But it can’t be. That’s an old man! And, I’ve seen him before… He was with me…when Oscar…

He watched carefully as Buffy led the old man out of his sight. He shook his head, trying to make the double image, the concussion had caused, go out of his head.

He knew, somewhere in his mind, that there could not be two Spikes. Certainly not two Spikes headed in two different directions; one was being kindly led away by Buffy, and the other, with eyes glowing golden with anger, was slowly advancing on him, malice emanating from him with every step as he drew closer.

And, he was weak, and defenseless. He shrank back as the vampire Spike knelt, his eyes glowing with wrath.

No…No please! his mind screamed, as his body shook in fear.

Spike’s head tilted reveling in a perverse kind of joy, “Well,” he drawled, “isn’t this…neat? Mind telling me what you’re doing…here?”

December 19, 2027-New England-

Spike was in pain. Oscar knew this kind of pain, and he knew it well. It was the kind of pain- the kind of grief that was capable of reaching across time and space- the kind that he had promised to keep from her heart. And, as he looked out at the silently falling snow, and he listened to the sounds of grief in this tiny house, Oscar was transported back through time, to another yuletide season, and another lost child. He knew why he could no longer deny the blood’s call, though he had tried.

Spike’s pain had been his. It was his now. They were brothers, with more than a sire’s blood to connect them to one another.

Oscar tried to pull himself from the gentle serenity of the snow, and be present, be in this moment, painful though it was, and listen, and see the pain.

“Where is my daughter?” the room rang with his feral growl, “What have you done with her?” his eyes narrowed dangerously, and Joni was afraid she might have to stake him if she couldn’t get through the fever, and make him see reason. He shook her shoulders hard enough to make her hit her head on the wall behind her. She winced at the pain, both in her head, where it had hit the wall, and at the searing heat she felt on her flesh where he was touching her. She tried not to pull away. The heat was almost too much for her, but it was nothing to the pain in her heart at hearing that growl directed at her, “…Did you take her from me?”

How she had let him corner her like this, Joni didn’t know. And, if he were lucid, her Daddy would be furious with her, “I’m right here, Daddy,” she said softly, “I haven’t left, and neither has Mom. Not since you’ve been sick. We won’t go anywhere, I promise.”

Spike shook his head, “No…” his voice was empty and desperate, “She’s not here. Where’s my beautiful girl? Tell me,” he snarled, “What happened to her?” he shook her again, this time with less force, and Joni knew that his delirium had gotten the better of him. She took some comfort in that, “…Tell me,” he roared, “Where is she? What happened!”

“Joni,” Buffy’s voice was tense, “Baby, maybe you shouldn’t…”

“It’s all right, Mom. We’re all right,” she paused for breath, her eyes stinging with tears of sadness,“ Aren’t we, Daddy?” she kept her voice calm, “But Daddy,” she whispered, trying to calm him, “you’re hurting me.”

He seemed confused for a moment, then his grip on her shoulders relaxed. Inwardly, Joni breathed a sigh of relief, and her heart clenched for him as she noticed beads of sweat breaking out on his face. Angry yellow melted into hazy, bright blue, and the horror of recognition came, causing him to blink, as if to bring her into focus. His hands trembled as they left her shoulders and slowly traveled upward, caressing her face. His breath came short, and he fought a sob, as he cradled her face in his hands, “Joni…Dove…?” he whispered, his eyes widened in disbelief.

She nodded, finally letting herself breathe again when he pulled her into a tearful, thankful, trembling embrace, “Oh Joni, did I hurt you?”

“No, Daddy,” she assured him, “you didn’t hurt me.”

Joni could tell, as her Daddy’s fearful gaze fell on her mother’s, that he didn’t believe her, “Do you have them?” he asked her, his voice shaking.

Buffy shook her head, “I-I don’t think we need to…”

“Do you have them?” he asked again, his intense gaze made brighter by the unexplainable fever that was coursing through him now, and Jonina wondered if he really * could* burn up from the inside.

Joni swallowed her fear, and touched his face, drawing his eyes back to her, “We have them Daddy,” she nodded, searching his eyes, “Do you want them?”

He closed his eyes and sighed, “Yes. I…need to rest,” he whispered, “Just…need to rest.”
***********************************************************************

Homer was leaning so heavily on her, that Buffy could feel herself start to lose her balance, “It’s okay, Homer, we’re almost there,” she said as she gently shifted her weight again, trying to keep him upright, “It’s not far. Just hold on a little longer, then you can rest,” she whispered as they slowly and haltingly made their way to the back of the dojo, “I never realized this place was this big,” she mused, ruefully, as the frail old man seemed to grow heaver with every step.

“I need to rest,” Homer mumbled, his words slurred by exhaustion.

“I know,” Buffy said as the tiny cot came closer, “and you will. Just a little more…”

“So tired…” he whispered.

“I know,” Buffy sighed as she gently sat him on the cot, picking his feet up, and allowing him to lie back. He seemed so small to her. She carefully removed his shoes, her hands trembling, and was surprised to find that they were remarkably similar to the boots he’d worn in all the time she’d known him, and that made her smile, “There, is that better?”

“No,” he whispered, “it’s all wrong. So broken…Where is she…?”

He’s so tired, he’s not making sense, “Jonina’s upstairs…”

“Hmmmm…” he nodded, content, even as sleep began to claim him, “She’s so beautiful, my girl. So bright and shining…”

“Yes,” Buffy agreed, “she is. And, you helped her become that,” she said, pulling one of the spare woolen blankets over him. She took great care removing his eyeglasses, and placed them on the top shelf of the nearest locker, she shut the door as quietly as she could; she looked at his face, and wondered.

Could this really be him? she smiled to herself, as out of nowhere, something from the legend of King Arthur came to her mind. That happened more often now, a side- effect of their experience on the Hellmouth, she supposed:

So, this is the once and future king?
**********************************************************

Fear was a heady thing, very easy to overindulge. And, as the scent grew heavier, if Spike didn’t have another goal, something more important to accomplish, he might have let Liam’s fright distract him, “Well now Liam,” he chuckled, “there’s no reason to be skittish, is there?” his eyes glinted with delight, “After all, we are old mates, aren’t we?”

“Please,” he begged, his voice cracking in his fear, “Please…don’t hurt me.”

Spike raised an eyebrow, “Tell me, why on earth would I do that?”

“I-I I’ll tell you whatever you want…” he stuttered.

“And, you know what that is, do you?” Spike smirked.

Liam shook his head, gasping for breath.

Spike clicked his tongue, “Oh,” he pouted mockingly, “and I was so hoping you could tell me a little story…Something about a Shanshu, perhaps?”

Liam lowered his eyes in shame, “You remember. I was hoping you wouldn’t. There’s nothing I can do about that, now. But, I can help keep you from dying…”

Spike nearly roared, his amber eyes rolling toward the ceiling, “God, are you a bloody broken record! Change the tune!”

“I’m serious…” he murmured.

“So am I!”

Liam tried not to flinch as the vampire’s fangs flashed. He had never felt this frightened before, but he knew that he had information no one else had. He knew something, and that made him valuable. It allowed him to stay alive, “Please…please…” he stuttered again, a cold fear striking him as he stared into murderous eyes; eyes that he used to see his victims with, ones he had seen William with, “William,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry. I am,” he struggled to keep from shaking, he knew he had to appeal to the part of the vampire that hadn’t yet died, “I don’t know how…but you made it back. But, haven’t you noticed it? Something’s wrong? A little off?”

Spike’s eyes narrowed, regarding the man cowering in front of him with a time-honored suspicion, “This could be very amusing. Do tell.”

Liam’s breath shuddered, and he pushed the fear down, allowing him to speak, though weakly, “I know what it is you’re losing.”

Spike said nothing, only raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“You wanted a story? I could tell you one. You might have even heard it before, it’s made the rounds, especially in…” his eyes were downcast as he whispered, “the demon community. It’s about…a demon’s soul.”

December 23, 2027- New England-

Oscar felt the bond being torn, just as it had been years before when Darla and Drusilla were killed…and now Spike. Now, he was the last of the Aurelius line, but at least the legacy was safe.

If he could keep her grief contained.

The sound ripped through his body, and tore at his nerves. The bond had been broken, and now he was alone. The sound of her anguish reverberated in the chasm of time, “Daddy, please…Why Daddy…? Why?”

The grief in this house was suffocating. But, at least now, there was the promise. A promise that Oscar knew he had to protect, even from those he had loved the most.

He felt their sorrow, and knew, even before the door opened and revealed her, that it was over. Yet, he knew that it had just begun.

Her green eyes burned with a fire both chilled and warmed him, “I thought…” Buffy’s eyes shone brightly, clearly showing him the emptiness she felt, “Oh, Oscar,” she shook her head, “how could I have been so wrong? And now…” the tears began to fall, and she joined him at the window, taking what little comfort the snow’s beauty could offer, “Poor Joni,” she whispered.
************************************************************

Spike tried to process what he was saying. He knew, could feel something inside of him dying, and there were legends and myths, but no one- no demon, and certainly no human- gave them any credence, but still, he felt it. He knew it. And yet, he still couldn’t believe.

There was a time, when he was younger, and more naïve, not much more than an aimless fledgling really, that he might have believed, but he didn’t believe now.

If he believed, it would destroy her, destroy them.

He had no hope. Angelus, and his time in the prison that Wolfram and Hart had designed for him, had taken that hope away. A hope that was now a handful of dust. A hope that he had spent years mourning, and that he didn’t know how to rebuild.

Spike was incensed, and as he paced, it became more and more difficult to exercise any restraint. Angelus had been cruel, but somehow, Liam was even more so, and the sound of his blood as it rushed through him made it difficult to think, “You’re lying,” he growled, loosening the tight control he was straining to keep on his demon. He stared at Liam as he trembled with fear, “Tell me,” he asked, “why shouldn’t I kill you?”

Liam swallowed his fear, “Spike,” his voice trembled, “I know…” his eyes darted to the golden, nearly reptilian eyes that were looking at him now, “I know…I could have helped, and I didn’t. I don’t even know…” he could feel his chest tightening, “if you’ll even listen to me now…But, I do know that you were never bloodthirsty. Not like I was. And, I tried to beat it out of you, I did,” he shook his head, lost in the memory of what he was, “You were right,” he sighed, his shuddering breath betraying his terror, “You were nothing like me.”

Spike’s fangs flashed. The demon had never been this insistent before. The more Liam talked, the more he brought the demon to bear. All he wanted to do was bury his fangs in his neck, and drink until there was nothing left, “You know nothing about me!” he roared.

“Maybe not,” Liam whispered, the terror in his blood making it difficult to speak, “Maybe that was true,” he stuttered, unable to withstand the naked fury in those eyes, but powerless to look away from it, because now he did know him.

He knew him, because now… “But now it’s not,” he closed his eyes, as the things he could have done to help, but didn’t, flashed across the canvas of his mind, “You want to kill me, don’t you?” he was shamed, and tears of anger, and regret, stung his eyes, looking at the lethal light that flashed, like lightning in Spike’s eyes, “I know that. And, do you know how I know that?”

He waited, but he saw none of the compassion, none of the light, which had always been a constant, almost to the point of being infuriating, in the golden eyes that were staring back at him.

The silence was vociferous, as he had once been. That was when Liam knew… “I know that,” Liam said, “because, I killed you.”

Spike pulled the man up by his neck, and felt his fingers tighten around it. God, do you know how long…How easy…? Just snap you like a twig… “You see?” the man rasped, and as the shock of what was happening to him settled in and became a certainty, his stomach, oddly, sank, and he coughed, desperate to find air under Spike’s crushing grip, “It’s harder to control…isn’t it? You know I’m right…”
*************************************************************************************

Buffy watched Homer sleep, and frowned, worried. He seemed to be having a nightmare. She tried to soothe him, leaning over him and gently stroking the hair at his temple, “Shhh,” she whispered, trying to calm him with her voice and touch, even as he thrashed, weakly, in his sleep, “Easy now…” the words came, without thought, “Buffy’s here…”

His forehead creased, as though her voice had reached him, and he was trying to make his way through a fog, “So cold,” he murmured, “Nowhere else…It’s all destroyed….Something so small. How could…? I never…Oh…” his voice trailed off, and his eyes slowly opened, suddenly so bright and clear, so full of love, that Buffy felt her heart flutter.

“Hello,” she whispered, the word catching in her throat.

“So beautiful,” he breathed, a sad smile pulling his mouth up in one corner.

Suddenly, Buffy couldn’t understand why her eyes hurt. It felt like she’d been staring at the sun too long. She closed her eyes against the pain. Her heart knew what was happening, but her eyes refused to see it, “…So small,” he was saying, “But, that is how it starts. Everything begins with destruction. Take care of her…and I won’t be far…I promise…”

Buffy couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t bear to see the light growing dimmer, though she knew it was happening.

She knew she should call out to him, knew that he could feel it too, but she couldn’t bring herself to say his name. If she said his name, then it would be real.

If she said his name, then it would be over. And, he would be lost.

Her eyes stayed closed as she felt the light flair and then burn out. Her heart felt cold as she opened her eyes, hoping it wasn’t true.

But, her eyes opened, and the cot he was lying on was once again empty, she wept. And as she did, she felt her foundation shift, as it refused to hold her.

The floor shook, and the building roared in anguish.

She knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

He knew. When it happened, he knew, and Oscar hoped that it was the last time. He didn’t know if he could withstand the bond tearing again. He heard it calling, just as he had the first time.

He had thought that he was alone, until the witch put out the call that he was too injured to make.

November 1, 2022- New England-

Georgina looked up when she heard the door close. She had been so hopeful, there had to be someone who could get through to Spike. Joni needed him. She understood the devastation, she really did. But, he had to pull himself together, for Joni’s sake, if not his own.

She was still young. She needed her Daddy.

“Any change?” she asked, hopefully, as Willow sat down heavily at the kitchen table.

Willow sighed, shaking her head, “No. He won’t let me in, and honestly, I don’t blame him. He’s hated me ever since…” she swallowed, “Buffy got sick. Now, it’s gone beyond that. I tried…but…it’s like he just stopped. Joni even begged,” her voice cracked, breaking on her tears, “She tried everything she could think of. She gave him that little rabbit of hers,” Willow looked up at Georgina’s wide eyes, shining with her own sorrow, “The one she calls, ‘Spike.’ And, still nothing. I realize that he’s…” her voice trailed off as the tears, she couldn’t hide anymore, slid down her face, “…in mourning. I mean,” she whispered, “shutting down is maybe a good thing…no one would blame him if he…” she winced, knowing that silence * was* the better option if he wanted to save Joni, “went all ‘Big Bad.’ But, Joni really needs him. And, he needs her.”

“And, there’s no one else?”

“No. There can’t be. It was so loud,” she could still feel the pain, it was like a hole, an open wound in her spirit. She’d heard it. She still heard its echo, and his pain, and wished she could help. She wished she could do something to take it back. Her voice shuddered, as she spoke, “His scream couldn’t be any louder,” she locked eyes with Georgie, “No offence, but even you could have heard it.”

“I think I did,” Georgie whispered, her eyes clearly unfocused, “I hurt…down to my bones. And, it hasn’t gone away. I feel…” she shook her head, “I don’t know how…”

“I know,” Willow nodded, “You see? It may not have been vocal, but…” she sighed, defeated, “No, if there were anyone left to hear, I’m sure they would have heard it by now.”

Georgina looked down at her still untouched cup of coffee, as it grew colder and colder in her hands, and said, “Dru and Darla are gone. And Angel…” she shrugged her shoulders in defeat, “Maybe…he’s just *not * reaching out, anymore. I don’t know. Willow,” she looked up at her, “maybe you could try? Reach out for him? Joni needs him, and she’s all he has, now.”

It was that call, that cry for help, that had brought his little rabbit back to him, in a way. And in return, he would preserve this little miracle from anyone that would destroy it.

Even if the destroyer came in the form of his own, breathtakingly beautiful, daughter.

November 1, 2029- Los Angeles-

Today was bittersweet. William had been gone nearly two years now, and yet, there was still the Slayer. She would always be a link to him. A symbol of the hope he died to keep.

The hope that was quickly dying, in his cold heart.

Today was All Souls’ Day. And, Oscar could not help but be reminded of the legends. He’d spent years traveling the world, seeking the mystics and any and all others who possessed the knowledge he hoped would lead him back to Diana.

The knowledge he hoped William now had. The knowledge that would, finally, let him rest. Finally let him be with his beloved Elisabeth.

He deserved that much. He deserved to be at peace.

So, when one of those mystics sent out a call, two years ago, to him, he was, to say the least, surprised.

“Oscar!” the sound of a fist pounding on his door broke him from his reverie, “For God’s sake, Oscar, please let me in!” Willow’s voice cried, as her fists continued to pound.

Oscar got up, swiftly, and ran to the door. The dawn was approaching, and he knew that Willow would know not to disturb him, unless it was urgent.

He pulled the door open, careful to stay out of the waning night, and was met by Willow’s panic-stricken face. He knew that, if his heart had been able to beat, it would be hammering in his chest at the sight of her. Fear suddenly took hold. He’d seen that look on William’s face, so long ago, “Willow,” he said, warily, “what’s happened?”

“It’s Joni…” her eyes were wide with horror, “She’s gone…”

He hoped that he could convince Jonina, this time, that she really could save her father, in more ways than she knew.

But, little girls, sometimes, didn’t understand what they couldn’t see.

Leaning against the chain-link fence across from the small brick building that the Dustins called home, Oscar wept bittersweet tears at the rage that shook the rafters, and everyone, and everything around. And, that alone was enough to confirm what he knew was true.

Some day, Spike would make it possible for him to see Diana again. If he could only keep the little one’s grief from destroying everything, as it had so many times before; just as his grief had destroyed him.
**************************************************************************************

Buffy heard the roar, and her first thought was of Joni. She ran toward the stairs as fast as she could, hoping to find her at the top of the staircase, hoping she wasn’t seeing what she already knew, in her heart, she was seeing.

But, it was too late. Joni was staring at Spike, her eyes wide with shock, as she looked at him, in full game face, as he held Liam in his grasp. The sight was so shocking that even Buffy wanted to be anywhere but where she was.

She wanted to wipe the sight of Spike’s fangs in Liam’s throat from her mind. The sight rooted her to the spot, and made her dumb.

His fangs were bared.

She could see the blood on them, Liam’s blood. Human blood.

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Nothing except a tiny voice, “Daddy?”

His world shattered into a thousand pieces. And, he struggled to push the monster back, and dropped the still breathing man like a rag doll, horrified at what he had done, and what she had seen. His eyes fastened on hers, and he was dazzled by the glistening horror he saw there.

His head was suddenly filled with sound. The sound of her frightened heart, as it beat within her tiny chest.

She was frightened- of him.

She was going to bolt.

It was then that his words, words he so wanted to take back at this moment, came back to him, “No, Sweetheart, even me. You see this face, or any like it, you run. And, you run fast.”

“Dove,” he whispered, pleading, even as his body shook with the terror of what he knew she’d seen, “Please…” he choked, “No…”

The last thing he saw was her pale yellow nightgown as she ran out into the night.
********************************************************************

November 1, 2029- Los Angeles

“What do you mean, ‘She’s gone?’ Has she gone back to Maine?” Oscar hoped that that was what she meant, that Jonina had gone home to continue grieving, and that the insane, but entirely understandable, need to misuse the magic was gone, and Jonina was going to move on with her life, and try to be happy, just as Spike would have wanted; but somehow, he knew that wasn’t what Willow meant.

The sad horror he saw in her eyes made him certain it wasn’t what she meant, “Oh Oscar, I hoped she would have taken after him, and distrusted magic,” the worry was making Willow’s voice piercing, almost painful to his sensitive ears, “But, it didn’t,” he could see the tears starting to form in her eyes, as she took a step forward, imploring him to let her beyond the threshold of his small flat, “She…”

“Willow,” Oscar said cautiously, his eyes narrowing, taking in her stricken expression, “it was his last…” he stopped, as the pain of his kin’s demise came to the surface again, and he pushed it aside, preferring to focus on the present, and on something he could actually *do*, rather than the fevered and desperate ramblings that still haunted his dreams, “You were supposed to keep her from it. Are you telling me that she…?”

The bloodless pallor of her face made him take a step back, allowing her to come into his home. As Willow walked the short distance to his sofa, she spoke in a shuddering voice, “I thought she just wanted to reminisce, you know?” she turned to look at him, nodding nervously, “Talk about happier times? And, there were happier times…”

“I understand, Willow,” he sighed, sitting beside her, “Go on.”

“I thought that, if she could get to know Buffy and Spike better…” she sniffed, “I mean, she was so young when Buffy got sick. I-I thought she might not even remember anything about before,” she searched Oscar’s face for understanding, “So, I told her about the wedding…And, their time in the little apartment on Jennings Street…”

Oscar was silent, waiting for her to finish. But, his muscles were taught with fear. He knew something wasn’t right.

And, with the witch’s next words, that fear became a sickening reality.

“And,” she whispered, her words barely disturbed the air, but were heavy with shame, “I told her about his journals.”

Oscar turned to look at her, as they sat on the sofa, his face slack with shock, “You didn’t…?” he whispered.

Her head bowed, because she could not bear to look into eyes that were so like his, and know she’d failed him, “Yes, I did,” Willow confessed.

Oscar’s voice became tight, desperately clinging to a hope he knew was dead, even before the words passed his lips, “But…” he shook his head, unwilling to face the terror he could see unfolding in front of him, and remembering William’s delirious insistence, “He wanted them burned. Did he burn them?”

Willow gave a defeated sigh, her voice trembling as she answered, “I don’t think he did.”

Oscar closed his eyes, trying to shut out the memory of his pain, and the pain the severed bond had caused him, “Did you?” he pleaded, clinging to his last hope.

A hope that died, as she whispered, “No. I don’t know where they are. They’ve disappeared.”

“Oh, God…Do you know what this could do? If she…?”

Willow’s eyes were wide with terror, and a grim conviction, “We’re not talking about ‘Ifs’ anymore…”
************************************************

The roar of anguish that rattled the windows of the building on Jennings Street tore at Oscar’s already tattered heart.

He could remember feeling that kind of agony himself when he discovered the true purpose of the amulet that Spike had been trapped inside. He had wanted nothing more than to cause his own apocalypse because of it.

That monster had not only taken Diana from him, he had taken the boy who had been Mary’s only saving grace. He often had nightmares, wondering what had become of the quintessence of him, and if it existed at all.

He and the witch, and all the mystics that could be had, the world over, had labored for an entire year, catching only glimpses of the havoc that a daughter’s grief could cause, before they were finally able to track her.

The fabric of time had been so tattered by the time they found her, that there was only an infinitesimal chance of repairing the damage. And, a greater chance of damaging the flow of time even more, perhaps destroying the universe in the process.

But, they knew they had to try. And, Oscar knew he would do anything he had to do, to give his soul some kind of peace.
************************************************

NOVEMBER 1, 2030- Los Angeles-

Willow tried to shield her eyes from the harsh white light the energy around the portal was giving off, “This is it,” she screamed, barely able to make herself heard over the roaring force, grimacing with the effort she was expending to keep the magic stable, “I don’t know how much longer I can hold it. But, her essence has been stable for a few hours now,” she looked quickly over at Oscar, “So…” she nodded toward the gleaming purple energy, waiting for him to move. When he didn’t move, she continued, “Now would be the time to jump,” she urged, hoping she wouldn’t have to reveal the whole truth.

That was a volatile ace, and if she showed it, she was afraid she might make things worse.

The apprehension was clear in his eyes, “Are you sure this is safe?” he asked, looking at her warily, “If I find him…I might kill him,” his visage became a mask of grinning death, “End the world…It’s too good for the likes of him. He deserves to suffer for what he did.”

She shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips, “There are a myriad of ways to suffer, living being just one of them. You won’t kill him, because you don’t know what that will do…and you like this world. Just like he…did. Now go, before the thing becomes unstable!”

Still, he did not move.

*Time to use that ace. *

“He’s there too,” she spoke softly, knowing he would hear, “He’s protecting her, somehow,” she smiled through her tears, “Let him know that there’s hope, and I *know* he’ll find a way through to her. Count on it. After all, he is the ‘Energizer Bunny.’”

Before she could blink, the light flashed, and Oscar disappeared.
***************************************************************

Hearing Spike scream in rage, it was very difficult to keep the demon under control, especially when he saw the streak of pale yellow, a yellow that reminded him of a winter sunrise, burst forth from behind the small door.

His breath caught, as he gasped, involuntarily.

Could this really be her? He’d seen her as a full-fledged Slayer, and a grief-stricken daughter, not as a little girl. She was so much like his… “Rabbit,” he whispered, moving swiftly to catch her.
************************************************************************

His nightmares had come true, in a streak of pale yellow. His whole body shook, screaming in silent horror. He could remember every predator that had lurked in the darkness of that Hell, waiting for him to let his guard down, waiting for him to leave her vulnerable.

He’d protected her from them all. Protected her from the sting of the poisons that would taint her, and turn her blood cold. He’d protected her for years, and he’d done it well.

Protecting her had given him a purpose when he could find none in the dark of that place. It kept him warm, when all he had was the numbing cold of death.

And now, the color that meant warmth and life to him, as well as death, the color yellow, exposed his failure for all to see. It ran out, into the night, away from the safety he knew and the comfort of a home he was just beginning to know again.

He had been her safe haven, but she had been his as well. And now, he was alone again, and he felt the cold returning.

She was out there, in the black. And, he had failed her.

There were so many things in this world that she didn’t know about. So many things that could harm her, things like him.

He had to find her.

For an instant, he looked up at Buffy. The fright and sadness in her eyes made the demon recede, “Buffy,” his voice shuddered as his mind seized.

He had to find her. He’d kept her safe from countless monsters, and now she was out there, in the dark- because of him.

“Go,” Buffy whispered, nearly overcome by the despairing look in his eye, and the violent emotions that were warring for her body’s attention as she watched him race out the door after her.
***************************************

The area around the little building in which this miracle was waiting to occur was surrounded by train tracks. At times, the forlorn wail of the whistles could be heard. And Oscar was reminded of a different whistle, a different time, as his eyes followed the blur of movement in the dark, and he listened to the tiny, staccato heartbeat as it sang to him, cried out to him for help. Just as he was sure his daughter’s had, when she needed him.

She had needed him, and he had failed her, his little Rabbit. Well, not now, not this time. He wouldn’t fail her, or Spike, again.

December 21, 2027- New England-

Oscar’s eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness of the small cellar. The bitter tang of sweat and the bite of salt were thick in the air. The vaguely earthen scent sickened him almost as much as the sight of the boy chained to the wall.

* It can’t be true. It isn’t true. * Yet, every fiber of his being said that it was true. This wraith of a creature was a vampire- one of his kin.

He knew the boy was no threat. The boy was too ill to even stand. There was no need for him to be isolated from his family, and bound like an animal. And yet, he was.

* I’ve lived a long time, longer than I should have. But, I have never seen this. Too weak even to call out. But, if he had, would I have listened? Did I not listen? If not for the witch…

This can’t be the boy I knew! *

Oscar moved slowly, hoping it wasn’t true, through the fog of death and fear that seemed to envelop the boy now.

* How…how is it even possible? I thought I was alone- and now…*

As Oscar stepped closer to the bed on which the boy lie, he tried not to focus on the softly grinding sound of the metal of the chains that hit his ears, and mingled with the murmuring desperate voice that seemed aimless in its pleas for mercy, as they moved slowly, a constant and unrelenting reminder that the boy he knew was gone as he trashed, weakly, about in his delirium; his mind weakened beyond repair by the witch’s magic.

Oscar was so disgusted by it that, for a brief moment, he thought about tearing the shackles away from him, and cradling him like a child.

He seemed so lost that Oscar wondered if he would be able to pull him out of this horrible spiral.

He’d just found him. He couldn’t watch him leave.

He was close enough, now to see his eyes, and the glassy cloud that covered them, keeping him from recognizing anything, or anyone.

And, that was when he knew, this * was * the boy that he had known all those years ago.

Angelus had killed him, too.

“…Please…help her. I- I know…I won’t leave…” he whispered.

Oscar tried to move through the shock that the desperation in that familiar voice brought with it and he knelt, feeling the hard, cold floor of the cellar beneath him as he spoke softly to him, trying to offer some comfort in return for the comfort he had once been offered in a time of need, “Of course you won’t. She needs you,” he choked, as he stared into his eyes, hoping to find him, present and aware.

Sadly, it seemed that the boy was lost. And, his heart began to feel a loss. He knew he might not be able to help.

“Who…? What are you?” William’s voice trembled with fear, his fevered eyes locked with his, “Don’t hurt her. Please,” he begged his phantom tormentors, “Don’t hurt her! Please…don’t let me hurt her…”

No, he wouldn’t fail him again.

Hearing the distant whistle, the warning of an impending train, and knowing that, in her fright, she would not hear, or know the danger that awaited her as her heartbeat raced, reaching toward it blindly, he raced after her.

Hoping to catch her before all hope was shattered
**************************************************

Spike searched the darkness frantically, trying to pinpoint her rhythm. In the darkness that was the world of his banishment, it had been simple. There were no others like her. But now, there was Buffy; he could feel her grief pulling at him, the accusations screaming at him from her bloodstream, and her soul, and countless others.

And, there was something else. Something… vampire … Suddenly, he heard the distant screaming of something he knew, in his core, was a threat to her; a threat he could not stop. The train was coming, “No!” he begged as he raced after her.
**********************************************************

Spike told me to run. He told me to run! But, my Daddy…Oh, Daddy! The monster got you… Joni sobbed, her tears blinding her to the dangers that were a part of the night she was hurtling toward. Where did you go? Papa, where did you go? Papa, where…?

Joni ran as fast as she could, kicking up dirt as she went. She knew she had to get away. Spike knew about the bad things. The things that wanted to hurt her, and didn’t want her to be big, Spike had told her about the monsters. But, it was so different here. Nothing was safe, and so she ran.

Until, something reached out and hit her, very hard.

She felt herself start to fall, and the strange mix of metal and dirt was in her mouth, and her face hurt. She had hit something hard and cold.

She tried to get up, but it was too dark, and she was very sleepy. And, the screaming noise was too loud…so loud, that she couldn’t think…

Papa, please don’t leave me.

The tang of her blood washed over him, blinding him as the demon pushed forward, searching for her. He couldn’t think. He just let the animal take over.

The whistle of the train became too loud, too close. It was too close to her. And the vampire was out there, waiting for her.

He had to find her.

There were vast amounts of black- cold, unfeeling black. Spike was in Hell again, searching for his little bit of light, “Joni!” he screamed at the black, as he ran.

Then he saw her, his little bit of warmth and light- sprawled across the railroad ties- her face turned into the dirt- still as death.

That sight alone would have ended him. The smell of her blood, spilling out of her, made his stomach roll.

But what spurned him into action, what made the night glow red with fury, was the sight of the other- the vampire- moving in for the kill.

He was going to kill her.

And the train whistle…the light… it was too close…
******************************************************************

From far away, Joni heard the wonderful sound, and she knew. She knew her Papa had come to save her.

He hadn’t left her.

He lifted her up, light as a feather, and carried her away from the noise and the light.

She was safe.

“Daddy…” she mumbled, “Why did the monster take my Daddy? Oh, Daddy…Daddy…”

She felt safe, and, even though her head hurt, opened her eyes. His face was fuzzy, different somehow, “Daddy?” Joni whispered before sleep called her again.

“No, Rabbit…” was all Oscar managed to get out, before he was forced to the ground.

Oscar hit the ground with such force that, had he been a human, his back and neck would have been broken, “Ugh!” he sputtered as he hit the ground.

Stunned, Oscar looked up into the blazing, powerful eyes of a vampire. A vampire that was once a boy who had comforted him.

Oscar nearly howled with joy. For what stood before him now, glaring down at him with fury, was not the broken kinsmen he remembered, but a whole and mighty killer, bent on protecting all that he held dear.

“You stay away from my girl!” Spike growled.

Buffy heard the train whistle break the eerie silence of the night, and she shuddered. She wanted to be out there, searching for her. She’d lived on the Hellmouth much too long. She knew that quiet like what seemed to be lurking outside now was never good.

This was Los Angeles. There should be a barrage of noise, but there wasn’t. On nights like this, on the Hellmouth, bad things were never far behind.

She wanted to be out there, looking for Jonina, but she didn’t know if Joni would come to her if she were frightened. If she would go to anyone, if anyone could find her, it would be Spike.

Yes, she wanted to be out there, but she had other things to worry about.

Liam knew something. And, she was going to find out what that was.

Buffy knelt to check his pulse. Her fingers trembled as they moved over his neck, skirting lightly over the wounds that were still jagged and red. They stood out on his pale skin, a callous reminder of what Spike was, and that he had been through Hell; A Hell that this man had created for him, by his own inaction.

Jealousy and revolution warred inside of her, with an irrational sense of relief, as she felt the small answering pressure against her questioning fingers.

Strong. Regular. Spike hadn’t taken much. Would he have, if Joni hadn’t been here? If her voice hadn’t stopped him… It didn’t matter. He would live.

For an instant, she wasn’t sure if that was what she wanted.

Buffy slapped his cheeks lightly, trying to rouse him, “Liam,” she said, a sharp edge to her voice, “time to wake up.”

The unconscious man groaned, and Buffy had to swallow the rancor she felt rising within her as she watched him rise to blurry wakefulness. His eyes slowly opened. They were clouded and unfocused at first, then he blinked, and seemed to recognize the face in front of him, “Buffy?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she bit out, more than a little disgusted at the sound of the frightened breaths that were coming in and out of his body, keeping his heart beating when Spike’s was not.

He seemed to be coming to himself now. He was trying to sit up, and Buffy could see that he was scared. That was good. If he were scared, maybe he would remember why he was still here. “How’re you feeling?” she asked.

Liam swallowed, hissing breath through his teeth. His hand went to his throat, and the wound that was there, still bleeding a little. He drew his hand back, and his eyes widened when he saw that his fingers had blood on them.

He looked up at her, the shock he was feeling evident in his eyes and in his voice, as the word shook itself loose from him and tumbled into the air between them, “Spike…?”

Buffy closed her eyes and nodded.

Liam gasped. Clearly, he had not expected this. Whether he had expected to die or not, no one knew, “Why?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Buffy admitted, shrugging, “I think you might have our daughter to thank for that. Just to be sure though,” she smiled at him, her voice strangely sweet, as well as deadly, “why don’t you tell me what you told him, and then I can tell you whether or not I think he made a mistake.”
*****************************************************************************

Oscar had to make a conscious effort to defend himself against the protective blows that Jonina’s father was pelting him with because he was too happy to see him healthy to even care that he might very well be in danger.

William swooped down upon him, taking him roughly by the collar, and still, all he could do was laugh at the deadly intent in his gaze. His eyes were powerful, and that was something Oscar hadn’t seen before, having only discovered his kinsman just days before his death.

He laughed. The fire was so good to see.

“Well,” Spike said, his voice deepened by simmering rage, “I’m not sure I would be laughing if I were you. You see, you’re not going to be here much longer…” Spike placed his hand on the other vampire’s neck, his fingers resting against the collarbone, and leaned in to whisper, “You know…all I’d have to do is move my hand, just so. And, you’d be dead. Dust. Do you want that?”

Oscar felt William’s fingers tighten slightly against his neck, preparing to move, to do what he threatened to do. Decapitate him. And he wondered if he was already too late. Had the part of William he’d sworn to protect already died?

That thought, and the small whimpering sound made by a frightened and wounded child, a sound that still haunted him, vexed him. The fact that William seemed too focused on him gave him his answer.

“You want to kill me?” Oscar asked, his blue eyes staring into William’s yellowed ones, searching for the boy he once knew, beneath the powerful killer.

“That was the general idea, yeah.”

“In front of a child? In front of…Joni?”

Briefly, Oscar saw a flash of bright, royal blue. The color he’d seen in the boy’s eyes on that horrible winter morning. He was completely grief-stricken. And, as he felt the grip around his throat fall away, he knew he still had a chance to save him.

“Joni…” Spike gasped, his eyes softening as the mask of a killer gave way to the face of a concerned father and darting to the little girl who was cowered in the grime and dust not far from him.

He rushed over to her, seeing the yellow of her nightgown before he saw her. Her face was turned away from him, and he could smell the tears lingering on the light breeze that was flying her pretty maple tresses around her head.

And her whimpering was like a stake in his heart. The smell of her blood sickened him.

How could I have forgotten her…?

“Joni, Dove…?” Spike placed his hand on her shoulder, and winced when she flinched at his touch, “It’s Daddy,” he said softly, hoping she didn’t notice the tremor in his voice, “Can you look at me?”

She shook her head vigorously, her face still turned away from him.

Spike felt the fear coming off of her. He could smell it. And, at that moment, he knew he was a monster.
******************************************************************************

Buffy did her best to be gentle as she tended to Liam’s neck wound. He didn’t deserve this kindness, being here, in her bathroom. He didn’t deserve to be looking in her mirror as though he were looking at a lost love. What he was telling her made her want to drench the wound in a generous amount of alcohol- without giving him time to brace himself for the sting. She placed the cotton gauze gingerly over the wound, and taped it down, “Now let me get this straight,” she grumbled, trying not to let him know that she was close to tears; she didn’t want to let him know how much Homer meant to her, and how much she worried for him and wondered where, and if, he was, “Vampires have souls, and you trapped Spike’s inside the amulet? Spike didn’t need to go to Africa, didn’t need to go through that Hell…because he already had one?”

“Not a soul, Buffy. Not really…and it’s just a legend…”

“Vampires are legends,” Buffy bit out, “but you and I both know they’re very real.”

Liam nodded, his eyes downcast.

“And you believe it?” Buffy asked, an accusatory tone in her voice.

“I didn’t. Not until I saw…”

“Not until Joni was kidnapped. Not until Spike went into Hell after her, and pushed you back through. Not until you became human. Is that right?”

Liam nodded again, “I don’t even know why I’m still alive. The soul…the essence…” he whispered, “It’s been damaged somehow. Diminished…”

“And that’s what Homer is? He’s Spike’s soul?”

“I think so,” Liam said, sounding contrite.

“Then it’s not just diminished. It’s gone. I watched him go,” Buffy said sternly, “And, somehow I know you had something to do with it. What did you do? Did you kill Homer?”
********************************************************************************************

Spike tried to keep the hurt from his voice, “Joni, please…”

Her little voice shook with emotion, “What did you do to my Daddy?” her breath heaved, shaking her entire body, “Where is my Daddy?” she sobbed as she shrank further away from him.

“I’m right here, Dove,” Spike tried to soothe her.

“No,” she cried, her eyes screwed tightly shut against the horror she’d been told about, by her best friend. She refused to look the monster in the face. She held her rabbit close to her. He was her protector, now that her Daddy was gone, “Spike told me about things like you,” she whimpered, “You’re a monster! You took my Daddy. My Daddy’s not here. He’s gone…”

Oscar stood by and watched the exchange with a saddened heart. The scene brought to mind an exchange he hoped he would not have to endure.

DECEMBER 21, 2027- NEW ENGLAND-

“William, can you hear me?” Oscar asked, distressed by the boy’s seeming delirium, and unwillingness to accept the little help he could offer. The help his blood could offer.

Spike’s head thrashed weakly, resisting the blood he needed desperately, and knew was near enough for him to take. But he would not take it. He could be strong. For her, he could do anything, “No…” he murmured, his voice weakened by fever, “not a monster. Take me back. Dove…please…Take me back.”

Oscar was sure he had missed something in his reverie. Because, when he came back from his past, to the scene in front of him, William was standing up, cradling the little rabbit against his chest.

He began the slow, long walk back to Jennings Street, completely transfixed by the girl he carried in his arms. Unaware of anything or anyone around him, other than his daughter, and that suited Oscar just fine. He wanted to fade back into the background. He didn’t want to break the miracle, do anything that might change it, before it had a chance to begin.

Still, the look of anguish that was on his face, and in his voice, as he passed him, wholly unaware of his presence, pained Oscar deeply. The sound of William’s voice, as he disappeared with Jonina, into the night, was reminiscent of his own heartbreak, if it had been able to speak, so long ago.

“I swear to you, Jonina,” Spike whispered, “The monster will never frighten you. You’ll never see it again…Ever.”

The smell of her blood made him sick. So sick that it made it difficult to think of anything else. It really was a blessing, painful as it was to see, that she was sleeping. She shouldn’t have to see him now.

Not when the monster was so close, so difficult to control.

He didn’t want her to see what he’d become.

As he held her, he noticed the change, and his heart was grieved as the cold she had driven away began to spread, widening its jaws to consume him.

Normally, she would have been light, but not now. Now she was heavy, because he knew that he was losing her.

His little bit of light. His only warmth…and he was losing her. The beast had taken her from him.

He was losing her. He could feel it, deep in his chest. It was heavy and cold, and that made her heavy. So much weight…

How can she be so heavy…?

“Daddy…” she mumbled as she burrowed into his chest. The slight pressure of her body against his brought back the time that he had spent in that Hell. And it was Hell, except for her.

She was his. She was the only thing that kept him sane in that place. She had been his protector, just as much as he was hers. He loved her for what she had done for him, for keeping the cold and the loneliness away. Now, when he had the chance to return her kindness, when he could protect her, he had failed her.

At one time, the silence within him, the coolness of his skin had calmed her. She would sleep peacefully against him, and her warmth kept the cold of madness away from him. Her warmth had soothed him when he held her close. But, now it only served to remind him of how long he’d been away from her, how much he’d let the cold control him, how far he’d fallen.

Yes, she was his. But now, she wasn’t. And he knew that he might never be able to have her again.

He looked down at her, as she lay in his arms, and saw the blood that was oozing from her split lip and her nose; the bruising under her eyes, no doubt from her fall against the railway ties, and he was grateful.

He was grateful, even though the cold was bearing down on him, making him barely able to feel anything now, that she wasn’t dead.

She could be dead.

Like I am.

As Spike gently carried her back to the little place that was their home now, he silently thanked whatever was protecting her that she was not dead. His heart ached with both joy and the numbing loss as he listened to his little Dove’s small, slow, steady breath and heartbeat. He didn’t know if he would have survived if she had died. But, at the same time, he knew that there were worse things than death.

He had lost the one thing precious to him. He had lost her trust. Her faith in him had died. He knew that she would never look at him with innocent eyes again.

He had killed her innocence…and that was a kind of living death.
******************************************************

“What did you do, Angel? What did you do to him?” her questions were cold and emotionless. She was tired, and the shock of it was just too much to take, “Why did you lie to me?” Buffy asked.

Liam winced. She refused to use his name, and he didn’t blame her. Still, he didn’t want to be that anymore.

He looked down at the white Formica tabletop as he sat in the tiny kitchenette, and he felt a wave of jealousy.

Her life is *normal. * She has a home, a husband, and a child. All the things I wanted for her…and she has them with him…not me.

“I didn’t lie,” Liam whispered, still looking at the tabletop, “I just didn’t…know.”

“No,” her voice shook with rage, as she watched him try to hide behind his human form; she would not let him do that- not to her- not now, “you knew, you just…you hoped it wasn’t true. Because if it were, that would mean that Spike was always more deserving of what you have…then you ever were. It would mean that you were always a monster.”


“Buffy…”

Buffy looked at his face as she sat across the table from him. He was the picture of guilt. But, she wasn’t sure if guilt was what Spike needed now, “What do you know about the amulet?”

“Nothing that will help. All I know is that it was meant for me…and when Spike wore it instead…his quintessence was changed…bonded to it, so that if it were destroyed….”

“Quintessence…?”

“The essence that all beings are made from. It’s supposed to be divine,” Liam explained, “People in the Middle Ages believed in it.”

“All beings?” Buffy asked, “Even…?”

Liam nodded, “Vampires,” he said grimly, his eyes downcast, seemingly fascinated by the white tabletop.

“All beings are divine? Would that mean that…?” Spike could have made it into Heaven after the Hellmouth. But the amulet…

Buffy had trouble catching her breath as the anger and the hurt rose in her chest again, trying to crowd out everything else, “And the amulet was made for you,” she whispered, “to keep you on a leash. But you didn’t wear it. Spike did,” suddenly she saw herself handing him the amulet; saw the awe that crossed his face when she called him her champion, and her heart broke, “What would that do to him?” she asked, afraid that she had harmed him, as much as, if not more than, Angel had.

“It could have done anything, Buffy. It could have driven him insane. I don’t know why it didn’t. What I saw there…” his eyes drifted up to hers, and he was shocked and surprised at what he saw. They’re not blue. They’re green…Why did I think they were blue…? “…It was chaotic,” he mumbled, “Nothing made any sense. The images were horrific. There was death…I saw him die, Buffy.”

I gave him the amulet, and now he’s gone. Oh, Homer, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…

“I did it. I killed him,” she said.

The soft tumbling of a latch interrupted her thoughts; the turn of a doorknob broke her heart. She felt his pain.

“Spike,” she whispered as she rushed to the door.
************************************************

The building on Jennings Street loomed closer. The closer he came to it, the shorter he knew his time with her was.

She didn’t need to see the monster, and Spike knew he could no longer control the beast. Something in him had died.

And he would not allow her to see what was left of him.

He cradled Jonina gently against him, shifting her weight slightly, not wishing to wake her from her sleep as he reached for the doorknob.

He didn’t want to let her go, but he knew he had to. She had to learn to fight, and he couldn’t teach her. Not when she didn’t trust him.

He didn’t even trust himself.

Nothing made any sense. At least there, he knew what to protect her from. He loved her so much that he would protect her from anything that would threaten her.

He just never dreamed he would be what she needed to be protected from.

He was numb as he stepped through the doorway. He heard her voice, calling out to him, pleading with him, but it hurt too much to respond. These were his last moments with Jonina. He couldn’t let anything distract him.

He had to remember her. She was the only thing that stood between him and the beast, and she was so small, too small.

He couldn’t put that on her shoulders.

He had to go away.

The air was nearly as cold here as it had been on the morning William had died. Oscar felt the chill go through him, and he knew Spike had made his decision. The air buzzed with electricity and terror. His blood boiled with sorrow, and he wondered how he could have missed it.

How could he have missed the call of the Sire’s blood? All the years of loneliness that didn’t have to be; the years he could have known him but didn’t, because he couldn’t see past his own hurt.

But then, he had always been a selfish bastard. And, he supposed he always would be.

If it hadn’t been for William…

He knew the kind of hurt that Spike was feeling; he knew the impulse to turn inward, and he hoped that he would be able to comfort Spike, and the remnant of the boy that had helped his Mary so much, when he was unable.

6 APRIL 1873-

This was not his life. That died with her, months ago. So, why on earth was he here? This was dead to him. And yet, he could not look away.

Their life, and all it contained, the brightness, and her sweet sorrow, was so very alluring. He could not resist it.

What he saw both repulsed him and filled him with awe.

He peered into the window as the murmur of her voice caught him. She was weeping. But, he could not comfort her, not as he was now. Not when he was empty. He missed her, still.

“…Her death,” Mary sobbed, wringing his handkerchief in her worried fingers, “It must have driven him mad. There is no other explanation for his disappearence…”

Oscar could see the boy trying to comfort her, but he could also see the heat of anger boiling just under the surface of his skin. That alone told Oscar that William suspected the truth, “Have you thought that perhaps the monster that took …” the boy’s voice faltered, his eyes lowering. The boy was obviously distraught, himself, and did not want to add to Mary’s pain, “I do not know what could have driven him from your side,” he murmured, his whispered tones barely concealing his own grief; he was a good boy, William. He felt things very deeply. And that meant that, if he had chosen to take Mary into his heart, and into his family, then she was in safe keeping, indeed.

He could leave her. She would be safe. It was the boy that worried him. There was a fragile quality to him. A brittleness, and a light that made him too good for this world.

Was he strong enough to protect her at all, when he seemed so frail?

“…But, I will look after you,” his voice was wavering; no doubt he was reliving the grizzly sight.

He himself would never be able to pass a livery without catching the scent of death.

The only way Oscar knew to drown the scent of his little girl was to overwhelm his senses. And, become an agent of death.

As Oscar made his way back to the Jennings Street dojo, a place he’d only heard of in stories, he hoped that Spike would let him repay the debt he owed.
******************************************************************

His blank stare was horrific. But what was worse was the sight of Joni, lying limp in his arms. She looked so pale, and Buffy noticed smears of red on her yellow nightgown, and on her face.

There were traces of something that seemed to glow against the dark clothing that Spike wore. She didn’t have to ask what it was that gave off that sticky glow.

She knew.

It was blood.

“Spike? Spike…what happened?” she asked, her voice quiet with fright as she followed them up the stairs, “Is she…? Is she all right?” Buffy noticed his body slightly trembling as he carried her into the room that he had painted for her, and fleetingly, she wondered if he remembered doing that; wondered if he remembered being happy- at all.

Biting her lip, Buffy found the courage she needed to walk faster, and step in front of him. She placed a gentle hand on his arm, and felt him quiver with the emotions that were coursing through him, but he would not, or could not, let show on his face. But, she knew he felt them, on a deep level, because his eyes weren’t a sharp, painful blue. They were a dull, and lifeless amber.

“Spike, let me take her,” Buffy said, trying to soothe him.

Buffy moved her hand down his arm, to take Jonina from him, and was surprised by the low growl that came from him. It was a warning. And, for the first time since he’d come home, Spike truly reminded her of Angel, when he’d been brought back from Hell.

He seemed so lost. And that made her grieve Homer, and what Angel had done- to her husband- even more than she had before.

“Spike,” she said, her eyes locking with his, searching for something she knew. She tried to keep her voice strong, even though she felt weak, “I’ll take care of her. I promise…” she could barely speak. All she saw was pain.

It bled from every pore. He was so raw. Her heart screamed out for him.

“I-I tried,” Spike stammered. His voice seemed incredibly small and child like.

“I know,” Buffy whispered reverently, nodding.

“I tried…to keep it from her,” Spike choked, looking down at Jonina, as she lain, bleeding, in his arms. He looked back at Buffy, and she could see tears streaming down his face, his eyes still dull and lifeless, “The monsters. I tried to keep them from her. There were so many. How? How is she so…” his voice trailed off; lost in his own pain, he sank to the floor. Crashing to his knees, with Joni cradled tightly to him, he asked, “How? How is she still so soft? There were so many. And when he came…I thought…maybe…But, now he’s gone. She brought him here, you know?” he murmured, the words came as softly as a sob; his eyes focused once again on the broken child in his arms, “To help. So sweet,” he whispered, brushing her hair aside with a trembling hand, and kissing her lightly on the temple, “But, there’s no help for me. Good things don’t belong in this world. I brought the monster here. And now…” his eyes darted to hers again, full of pain, and begging her, “Why didn’t he tell me? I’ve never been this empty. Never. And I…I have to go…She’s the best thing I’ve ever done,” he choked, “And, I brought the dark here, to her…and you. I can’t be here…”

Buffy shook her head. She was crying now, too, “No,” she said, “You’re not going anywhere. Tell me. Tell me what it was like for you there,” she whispered, her heart breaking at the desolate look in his eye, even as he shook his head in fierce denial.

“Yes. It’s the only way I can help. And he’s here, too. He’ll help. He owes us that. This is his mess,” she bit out, “He can clean it up, for once.”

He wanted to scream. Didn’t she understand? This was a nightmare, and he wanted it to stay a nightmare. Jonina was all he had, and she was bleeding. The monster had taken his girl away from him.

He wanted to kill it, not bring it to life. He didn’t want to bring it here. He wanted to forget. Why couldn’t she let him have some kind of peace?

Why didn’t she wake him? Why couldn’t she let him forget?

Spike looked at his little girl. Her tiny face was swollen, discolored. The monster had done that to her. It had taken the light from her face, and away from him. His little Dove’s eyes would never light for him again. Why did Buffy, his sweet Buffy, want to bring the monster back to life? Why did she want to bring it here? Here, in the room, with his child…?

Why didn’t she wake him?

“No,” Spike growled, as he felt her close to him again. He wanted the warmth and softness of his “Wife.” He wanted to be close to her, because he was beginning to understand what the word wife meant in this world. And, he wanted that.

But, he was afraid, too. He was afraid she was going to take Joni from him, and make him cold again. A part of him wanted that, wanted to lose itself in the cold again, wanted to be numb because, if it were cold, then he could forget.

And, he so wanted to forget.

Yet, the echo of her warmth, and of what Jonina had been for him, cried out, “I can’t let you!” he hissed, more from hopelessness than anger.

“Let me help…Please?” Buffy begged. She wanted desperately to comfort him, but something about him, something in his voice frightened her, and she backed off, finding herself near the doorway again, against her will. Even though her heart ached for them, so much so, that she was nearly in tears, it was still awful, seeing what Angel had done to him- what she’d done to him.

This was almost unbearable. She was surprised she could even speak. It was so sad, the picture they presented.

Seeing Joni hurt was bad enough; she looked so fragile, like a broken doll cradled in his arms. And, as much as that hurt to see, Spike was worse.

Buffy knew that Joni would heal, given enough time. She was young.

But Spike…She didn’t know if he would make it.

He was weeping, and shaking uncontrollably. He didn’t seem to have control of his body. He was murmuring to her as his hands ran tremulously over her face and body. He was trying to wake her with sounds she didn’t understand. They were primal, not much more than a series of low grunts, but they seemed to make sense to her on a basic level. It was his language.

It was Joni’s language, too. It was her first language.

It was the language of Hell.

And, it scared her.

He looked up, still clutching Joni to him, and Buffy nearly gasped from shock. She had never seen that look in his eyes before. She had never seen that face…He looked dead, more dead than she had ever seen him.

He was suddenly ancient. The lines on his face were more pronounced than they had been. What had he gone through? What had put those lines there? They were deep, deeper than…Had they always been there? And, did she really want to know?

Always. How long is always? A day…A month…A year…?

She didn’t know him. Had she ever? “Oh, Spike,” she whispered.

“Buffy,” Spike croaked, “how…?”

The anguish in his voice almost took her in its wake, “How, what, Spike?” she asked, softly.

“How do I protect her, when I feel…?” his voice faded, once again falling into harsh, feral tones, tones that Buffy could feel slashing at her heart as she listened to them.

The lump rose in her throat, making her choke on the words as she whispered, “I don’t know, Spike.”

The terror in his eyes shot through her, chilling her. He was relying on her for the answers, and she had none. Fear was closing in on her, making the edges blur.

It would be so easy to give up, but she couldn’t do that.

She had always run away. But, not now, not when he needed her.

Not this time. This time, he needed her, and she was going to be there, “I don’t know…” she spoke softly, as she moved toward him again. She put her hand on his arm, silently asking him to let her relieve him of his burdens, both physical and emotional, and she felt his muscles give a little, releasing their iron-like hold, letting her take Joni.

She knew it was a beginning, “I don’t know,” she said again, “But this time, I’m not leaving you alone, Spike.”
*******************************************************************************

As Oscar waited outside the dojo, he hoped that he would be able to spare Elisabeth the grief that his Mary must have gone through; the grief of not knowing what had happened to a loved one. He could remember trying to console her, and Jonina, but he had not known how he could help.

How could he help, when he had no idea who William was?

DECEMBER 23, 2027- NEW ENGLAND-

Oscar looked out at the snow, hoping to block out the sounds of the young lady’s grief.

The words kept clanging in his head even though they were only whispered, “Why, Daddy…? Why…? No, Daddy. Please, Daddy…? No! Come back. I need you!”

The frost that played on the window only served to remind him of how much he had lost, and how selfish he was.

He could smell the sorrow, could hear her cries and taste her tears. William had made him promise…but how? He could do nothing.

Nothing except offer them solace, “I am deeply sorry,” he whispered as he stared blankly out at the new snow that lay on the ground, ‘for your loss.”

“I know,” Buffy croaked, her voice heavy with emotion, as she too looked out at the winter scene that surrounded the little house in a cold, and a strange, kind of beauty, “But, we both knew that one day…this would happen. I just …I was hoping…Joni needed it so much. She almost made me believe. And when I smashed the amulet, I felt a peace come over me…Then Georgie called. He woke up,” she sighed, trying to purge the sadness, “I thought it was over. And now…Joni thinks it’s her fault.”

Oscar didn’t know how to feel about that. To him, Jonina Irene Dustin’s existence was a two-edged sword. Without her, he would still be alone in the world. If she hadn’t had a part in destroying the amulet that had been William’s prison, he might never have heeded his call, he might never have heard it at all. But, it was so insistent…just like the boy he had known.

Without her, he might never have known. He would be alone.

And with her, because of her, he knew…and now, he was alone.

He hated her for that. But, even in the short time he’d known William, he’d grown to love her, too, because William loved her.

Such a short time…and now she was his family.

They.

They were his family, and his only link to William.

And so, as his younger brother had done before him, he would take care of the Slayer, and her kin…until the end of the world.

He looked out at the bright winter sunrise, and was thankful that William had thought of his daughter’s need for sunlight.

Without his forethought, Oscar knew he would not be seeing it, and however painful it was to see it without William, it was still beautiful.

He sighed, looking over at William’s wife, his widow now. She carried herself like a warrior, yet she was so much like Mary too. He understood why William had loved her.

“This amulet…?” Oscar spoke softly, not wanting to intrude in her hour of grief, “What was its purpose?”
********************************************************************************************

Liam had heard that growl before, over and over again. It came from his own mouth, when he was in that Hell. It came when he knew he’d failed, and watched Spike die again.

He remembered it all. And, he knew that he had failed again, but this time, it was worse.

This was a kind of living Hell, and he was responsible for putting Spike in this living Hell. He also knew that there was no way he could make it right.

The fear clenched Liam’s heart as he carefully, and quietly, made his way out of the small bathroom Buffy seemed to have forgotten she’d left him in, and beyond the tiny bedroom that was now a window into Hell. He winced at the pain he briefly saw. Spike holding his broken little girl, and Buffy looked so lost, powerless to help.

He felt his conscience ache once more, as he hoped that both Buffy and Spike would be too caught up in the well of pain to notice his escape.

He sighed with relief as he walked softly down the stairs, his heart pounding in his chest so loudly that he was amazed that Spike hadn’t noticed.

He opened the door and ran. He ran for his life, suddenly sure he never wanted anything more than he wanted to live. And he knew the longer he stayed, watching the last bit of humanity Spike had within him slip away, because of what he had done, the less he was likely to have the life he so desperately wanted, now.

And so he ran. Into the darkness and the cold of night, Liam ran.

And then…something stopped him.

The ghoulish grin flashed brightly in the darkness, blinding him. The beat of his heart paralyzed him, as the darkness held him, embracing him again.

Hurting him.

Killing him.

Oscar swallowed the warm life that Liam had to give, and as the man fell to the ground, lifeless, he opened his own wrist, and placed it near the dead man’s lips. He smiled as he felt the gentle pull, growing ever stronger.

Oscar was pleasantly woozy, lightheaded. His child was greedy. And always had been.

“No,” Oscar breathed, a smile teasing at his lips, “You’re not going anywhere, Liam.”

Buffy barely noticed that Angel wasn’t where she had left him. There were too many thoughts running through her head as she gathered the first aid kit. Oh, God! How do I help? Bandages…blood…they’re broken…they’re broken…Fix it! Fix it? How…?

She knew that something was missing. Angel was gone, and as far as she was concerned, he could take his chances with the dark.

The only thing she cared about right now was Spike, and breaking through the wall of anguish she could hear him building around himself.

And, I should know. I built one, too. I know that sound…

That sound was cold and sharp as a blade. It wasn’t sorrow or rage, or even grief.

It was beyond the spoken word. It was a feeling. A feeling she’d only felt twice before in her life. But, once felt, it could never, would never be forgotten.

It was Hell itself.

The vicious keening shook the glass in the windows, it choked the air around her, made it hard to breathe. It made her want to cry out to someone, anyone. It made her want to beg for mercy for him, and Joni.

The sharpness of his cry made her wonder if she would be able to reach him. Had he survived the suffering and pain that Angel had put him through- that she had put him through? Or, was he gone forever?

Was she too late to save him?

Maybe. But, Buffy knew she wasn’t going to give up without a fight.

She rushed back to the little room, and knelt beside him. Her hands were shaking as she opened the first aid kit.

“Joni,” she whispered, “Mommy’s here, now. Daddy’s got you,” she breathed, trying to comfort her unconscious child, “He won’t let anything bad happen to you. He loves you, you know that…”

She heard her Papa’s voice, but it was too dark to see. Papa was rumbling, but something was different. She had always been able to see him so clearly. He was bright. He glowed.

But, now it was dark. Now, it was cold. And the sound was so sad. Her Daddy was crying, and so was Papa “But, Papa, Spike told me to…” Joni whispered, squinting through the dark, wanting to see her Papa’s face.

The sound was different. It hurt. Had she done something wrong? Why was Papa crying? Was he hurt?

She hated it when her Papa cried. He cried too much, “Oh, but Spike didn’t know, Sweetheart,” Papa’s voice whispered, “He didn’t understand. He didn’t know you were going to be the Slayer. He just loved you, and that’s not easy for him. He loved you, and he wanted to protect you. ”

Joni stepped forward. She knew her Papa was out there, in the dark somewhere, but the shadows were too big. They were made of thick colors, purple and black.

“Spike is smart, Papa,” her voice squeaked, as she looked down at her yellow nightgown. It had red streaks on it now. “He told me to run,” she said, looking back out into the darkness, searching for something.

Something was wrong. Something was missing.

Her hands were empty.

“Where is my rabbit?” Spike Rabbit was always close when she was scared. * Always. * So, where was he now? What had she done to make him go away?

“I have to leave now, Jonina…”

“No!” Joni screamed, “You have to help me find my rabbit! Maybe he fell on the floor,” she cried, falling to her knees. She just had to find him.

She searched, but it was so dark, and her Daddy was still crying.

Joni was sure her Papa was out there, somewhere in the dark. She looked up. He had kissed her face. She could feel it, could still hear his voice.

“Can’t be in the dark forever. Have to wake up, and see what you can do…It’s beautiful.”

“No,” Joni whimpered. Something was wrong. The darkness was going away, and so was her Papa, “I have to find…”

“Rabbits can’t be forever… I’ll always be here.”

“But, where is…?”

The light was so bright. She didn’t want her Papa to go away. The light would burn him. She knew that. But, somehow she knew it didn’t hurt. She saw him smile.

The little light, it was pretty. A swirl of red, and blue and yellow, the light smiled at her. It was her friend. Her family. Someone her Daddy knew, a long time ago, someone who looked like Papa but wasn’t.

Someone with a little girl he loved. A little girl that was here, but wasn’t, anymore.

A vampire. The vampire that took her Papa away, took him into the light, and burned him. He had taken her away, too. The little girl was gone, and he was in the dark.

And suddenly, she knew…
********************************************************

Buffy finished wiping Joni’s face, when she felt her stir. The slight movement caused her to gasp. She knew that Spike had felt it too, because he suddenly stopped. The frantic petting and sobbing, the pain that had been so thick that she could almost see it, suddenly disappeared. For a precious second, he didn’t move, his entire being focused and waiting for her. Waiting for the slight flutter of her breath.

“Spike,” Buffy shuddered with relief.

He looked at her, and even though he said nothing, his entire body seemed to glow with joy.

Joni’s eyes fluttered open and her head fell back slightly, cushioned by her father’s gentle hand. Her eyes seemed unfocused as she blinked up at him, “Daddy…?” she mumbled, ‘Where is Spike Rabbit?”

“Oh,” Spike sighed, quite sure that he had never heard anything as beautiful as that tiny little voice, calling his name, “we’ll find him, Sweetheart. You, and I and Mummy,” his voice trembled as he held her close to him.

“My face hurts…”

“I know,” Buffy said, “Mommy’s going to fix that.”

“Vampire,” Joni’s voice was soft and grieving. It was as though she had lost her best friend.

Buffy moved in close, to comfort her. She knew that Joni probably wouldn’t understand. At least she hoped not, not yet. She was too young.

Spike looked up at her, and she could feel his loss, almost as much as she felt Joni’s. This was torture for him, and for her as well.

She was too young…

“Yes, Sweetheart,” Buffy said, “Daddy is a vampire. But, he loves you,” she cooed as she swept more of the dried blood and earth from her daughter’s tiny face, “He took care of you. And, he would never hurt you, if he could help it. He loves you…more than you know.”

Buffy’s eyes drifted from the task of scrubbing, and caught the shine of silent gratitude in Spike’s eye. He clearly had no words of comfort for Joni, and was grateful that she did.

Slowly, something seemed to fall into place, and Joni turned her eyes, again, to her father, “Daddy?” she choked, tears welling up in her eyes, “I’m sorry! Don’t be scared. I didn’t mean to,” she sobbed, “Really I didn’t. I’m sorry, Daddy, really sorry…”

Spike was amazed, and humbled by her true affection, her true love for him, “It’s all right, Dove,” he said, his voice nearly overcome with relief, and the torrent of emotions that washed over him as they bled out of her, feeding him, making him stronger.

“…I’ll take good care of her, I promise,” Joni breathed.

“Who, Dove?”

“Rabbit,” Joni promised, pressing her face into her Daddy’s neck.

“…Daddy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. When I find Rabbit, I promise I’ll take good care of her. I scared her away…Make her come back, Daddy. Please…?” Joni murmured into his neck, her eyes turned away from her.

She wanted to comfort her. The tears were exhausting her, but she seemed too frightened, and too hurt to fall into the sleep that Buffy knew wanted her.

Sleep should be a blessing for her, and it would be, if she didn’t seem so confused. She was talking about her toy. It was a he, her protector. All she knew was her Daddy, and, her rabbit. She called it, “Spike…”

Joni was all he had.

His haunted eyes looked up at her, pleading.

Had she said his name out loud?

He looks so tired…

How did Rabbit become a she? The protector has somehow become a “She.” Could it be…? Does she know something? Oh…no. No! No, not this young. I didn’t think. Joni, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. And now…

Sleep would be a blessing. Because, listening to her crying, while she stood by and did nothing, was sheer agony.

It would be a blessing. But, it was something Buffy knew she didn’t deserve, because she did not know how to comfort her own daughter.

She was a mother now. Moms should know how to do this. Joni shouldn’t have to…He shouldn’t have to…Oh, I missed so much…

This was something only her Daddy knew how to salve, and she envied him for it.

“Hush, now, Baby,” Spike cooed, as her stroked her hair, “It’s all right. This place is very scary. I know that. But, it would be scarier if you weren’t here, Dove. I love you so much,” he told her, his voice heavy and shaken from the unspoken terror that Buffy saw in his gaze as it shone back at her, speaking of all the things they both knew little girls should not have to know existed outside of their nightmares.

The things she knew of, and so did Spike. And now, she was horrified to know, so did their little girl.
****************************************************************

The battle-worn toy stared back at Oscar as he waited for his offspring to wake. He’d rescued it from the grimy rail yard where it had been forgotten, in favor of the living. He’d rescued it because it helped him remember, kept him connected to the things he loved.

It helped him remember the things that were, and were not. The things that are, and are not. Did it really matter? Would it help anything? Was this for his Diana, or was it for himself? Would this help William achieve what no other vampire had, or would taking from Liam what William had willingly given away, to save his family, ruin the thing he had come here to protect?

He could already feel things changing. His memories were becoming more like dreams to him now.

When William died, he’d been so sure…But, William was delusional, out of his mind. His body was ravaged with sickness and pain, with what Angelus had done to him, by way of the amulet that had closed the Mouth of Hell.

Was what he remembered memory at all? Were his memories delusions, now?

DECEMBER 18, 2027- NEW ENGLAND-

Oscar took a deep breath, not out of necessity, but out of fear. Whatever it was that had pulled him here, it was strong, too strong to be held inside this little cottage.

He looked around. Snow on the roof, warm light streaming from the windows. He could almost smell the gingerbread he was sure was baking in the oven.

It was like something out of Diana’s fairy stories…

* Oh, God…Diana… *

He sniffed the air again, and that’s when it hit him. It wasn’t gingerbread. That smell- it was death.

Death was in this house. It was so close, and it wasn’t he who was its messenger.

Oscar slowly made the Herculean climb up the three steps that lead to the front door. He had never felt such an ominous sense of fear. There was something in this tiny house that he did not want to face, and yet something had drawn him here and he knew that he had to find out what it was.

What, in this world, had been powerful enough to draw him here?

His fist clenched at his side. He did not want to know. His fingers cramped with the effort of his rebellion. He would not. He could not. It would not have him, this fear.

His muscles tensed. He would leave. Turn around. This was not something he wanted.

And still, he was powerless to fight it.

He found himself raising his fist…

He knocked. And was suddenly met by the powerful gaze of a witch, when the tiny door opened, as if he was expected.

Perhaps he was.

Hers was the power he’d felt, the power that had drawn him from the corners of the earth. He could see the power she had. It was in her, it radiated from her, like the sunlight he’d so long ago forsaken.

She was strong, but beneath that, he felt something stronger. An undercurrent. The enemy.

“Slayer,” he whispered, as the fear he felt with the enemy so near made the demon within rise to protect itself.

The reaction from the witch was not what Oscar expected. She stood there, her lips slightly parted. And then, she did something that surprised him.

She smiled.

“Buffy,” Willow sighed as the relief washed over her. She’d done something right, something to make up for the mess she’d made, “I think it worked. He’s here.”
*********************************************************

Oscar’s eyes roamed the dark space. The dull glint of the little toy’s stone eyes was the only light here. It had to be this way, this gentle awakening. It was something Liam didn’t deserve, but if it wasn’t this way, his offspring could easily be driven insane, much as his sire had been.

There must be no trauma attached to this young vampire’s awakening. Every care had to be taken to ease the transition. And so, it was dark, and he was quiet, refusing to speak until he know that Liam was safely through the pain, and the hunger that Oscar knew was coming.

He knew this was a kindness that Angelus did not offer Drusilla, but there was a method to his kind of madness.

It had to be safe for Liam, because he did not want his memories to be shattered. Liam had all of Angelus’s memories, memories that William would need, and this was the only way to preserve them.

This was the only way he knew to help Jonina. The only thing he knew that could even begin to contain her grief.

She felt responsible for her father’s death. Joni had told him so, with her own words.

MARCH 21, 2028- NEW HOPE CEMETERY-

Oscar had never been so happy to see the Slayer. He sighed in relief as he wended his way through the rows of tombstones to reach her.

“There you are,” he breathed as he knelt next to her, “You had your mother worried sick.”

She did not acknowledge him, just stared straight ahead at the tombstone ahead of her, “Tonight would have made twenty-three years,” she murmured.

He nodded, “Almost as many years as you’ve been alive. Their wedding anniversary?” he asked, his quiet musing loud in the cemetery.

She said nothing.

“May I ask you something, Jonina?”

Again, she said nothing, her eyes fixed on the letters etched in the stone. Oscar had to admit that he couldn’t generate even the slightest sympathy for this one.

He had too much history with Liam Donovan.

But, he had an even longer history with the boy who had been William Dustin. And right now, William’s daughter was in pain.

A pain he wanted to ease, if he could.

“Did you love your father?” Oscar asked.

The light of venom that suddenly flashed in the dark graveyard, in his direction, gave him his answer.

“Do you think he loved you?”

“I know he did. But, he shouldn’t have. I’m the reason he’s not here. I made Mommy smash the amulet. I didn’t know what it would do,” she was starting to sob, quietly, as she let the weight she’d been carrying for months go, “I thought he’d be better. He was, for a while. It was the best week of my life,” she smiled through her tears, “He gave me so much…told me things. I loved him so much. But then…and then Uncle Angel…He was the only one that knew, but he wouldn’t tell. Too wracked with guilt, I guess. But, what good is guilt? What good is being quiet about what happened back then? He knew about what happened. Homer told me…”

“Homer?”

“The old caretaker here. He died the night that Mommy broke the amulet. He told me Uncle Angel knew why Daddy got sick.”

“And, did your Uncle Angel know?”

“If he did, he didn’t tell me. And now he’s dead.” she gritted her teeth, and Oscar could smell the anger she carried in her on the light breeze that blew around the yard, “And so is my Daddy! Why did he have to try and be a hero?”

“I don’t know. Maybe that’s just…who your Daddy was.”

“There will never be another anniversary,” her voice shook with the loss that tore at her soul, “I’ll never see them dance again, and it’s all because of me.”

He understood her pain, but he understood William’s as well. There is nothing he would not do, would not have done, to see his Diana grow into a young lady like Jonina. He would willingly have died a horrible death so that she could live.

Oscar sighed as he stood up. There is no way he could tell her, in a way she would understand. After all, now that her Daddy was gone, she had no reason to believe what life really meant to a vampire.

The only reason the Slayer even let him exist was because of his connection to her father.

“Let’s go home, Joni. Your mother is worried about you.”

No, he could not let her be burdened with the guilt she had carried. If Liam had information that would ease this family’s pain, make what was ahead for William mean something to them, then he would give it.

He would make sure of it.

If an intact sire’s bond would help him be more persuasive, if it might make Liam see the wisdom of sharing what he remembered, so much the better.
*******************************************************************

Buffy sighed. The tears had finally dried, and the cuts were cleaned. Joni was in a fresh, white cotton nightgown, and Spike was kneeling on the floor, tucking her into her sleeping bag. He kissed her eyes as he murmured to her, “We love you, Joni. I love you. You’ll never know just how much.”

“I love you, Daddy, and Mommy, too,” she said softly, as if her words were a kiss. She smiled as her Daddy snuggled down close to her, releasing his worry and pain with a heavy, contented, breath.

“May I sing to you, Joni?”

She nodded quickly, “Yes, Daddy. Please?” she asked, sweetly.

Spike caressed her hair, and placed the smallest of angel kisses on her temple. He closed his eyes for a moment, lost in memory, and maybe the only bit of happiness that place had to offer him.

He slowly opened his eyes, and began to sing softly, his voice drifting lightly out into the hall, and began to fill the building with the love he felt for his child, “Baby mine, dry your eyes. Baby mine, don’t you cry…”

As Buffy watched this heartbreaking scene from the doorway, she felt tears prick at the backs of her eyes. She hoped Spike was right. She hoped that Joni didn’t know how much her Daddy could love. Because, if she did know, then that would mean she was a Slayer.

If she was a Slayer, then she did know. She knew what had happened to him, and what would happen. And, that was a heavy weight to carry.

Spike sighed as he shut the door. He hung his head, and Buffy could see that he was leaning heavily on the doorknob, grasping it with both hands and using it to steady himself; it was as though he didn’t trust his legs to hold him, “How can she sleep?” he asked, “I haven’t slept…not really. Not in….” his voice trailed off and he shook his head. Buffy waited for him to finish, but he didn’t. He remained silent. He was at a loss. Clearly he’d forgotten. It had obviously been a long time since he’d had any rest at all.

Homer had told her as much. He needed to rest.

A painful memory came screeching out of the depths, and threatened to swallow her.

A darkened chapel. A cross. And, the smell of burning flesh.

“Can we rest now, Buffy? Can we rest?”

She’d frozen then, but not now. She couldn’t freeze up now. She owed him, so much.

“She can sleep because you’re here. You were her protector,” she said, smiling sadly, “And, you did a good job, Spike. She’s strong, opinionated, resourceful, and alive.”

Spike sighed, “Just like her mother.”

Buffy sighed, grateful that he wasn’t looking at her. She was nearly in tears looking at him. She hadn’t slept either, but she wasn’t sure if he would understand that she couldn’t sleep without him now, “Yes, just like her mother,” she admitted softly, “And her Daddy.”

“What do I do now?” his voice seemed far away, “I used to know…”

X’yxeth-

The Zazlak was the largest of the predators. It was at least twice his size, and very strong. It commanded respect from all the other beasts. If it were possible for him to kill this beast, his status among the animals would be elevated, and nothing else would dare to threaten his youngling.

As he crept into the lair, he could hear the roar of the thing’s breath. The urge to flee was nearly overwhelming. To quell his fear, he held his javelin tighter in his grip. If his aim were true, there would be no question what was ruler here.

The beast was asleep. Its black and green scales wound lazily around the fire pit of its cave. The snowfall forced the poisonous reptile to seek warmth. This was to his advantage. If he stayed near the mouth of the lair, the Zazlak would be forced into the raw elements. Although the cold did not affect the beast inside of him, his foe was quite different. The cold made it slow and dim-witted. It was his only advantage. And he would use it, to protect his youngling.

He stood at the mouth of the lair and let his beast howl.

The Zazlak turned its red eyes to the intruder. The warmth of the cave enabled it to move swiftly, expanding to its full height of twelve feet. It straightened its wings, preparing to take flight.

In order to take to the sky, it would need to leave its lair. When it got to the mouth of the lair, it felt the sting of the javelin that had found its mark.

The Zazlak was felled.

He could still feel the javelin in his hand; the wood, which had worn his fingers to bloody shreds with its splinters as he fashioned it, and stone spear had become a part of him, like a second skin.

It was familiar. He knew it. As long as he had that weapon in his hand, he knew what to do. It had never failed him. Never. But now, that certainty was gone.

“…I killed them, the monsters,” he whispered, “With my own hands.” Buffy watched his left hand drop to his side, and reflexively form a fist, as if it were closing around an invisible weapon.

Buffy felt a lump rise in her throat as a strange empathy came over her.

Like me and my stake…

“I killed them all,” he continued, “ because I could. She was so small. So small…and there was no one else.”

Buffy felt a pang of guilt. She remembered what Angel had told her about the years that went by so fast there, where he was. She remembered what Stephen had told her, and the anger he felt when he got back to his “Dad.” Anger he felt because he had lived in fear for years.

Did Spike feel that anger? Was he angry with her because she’d let him turn her away, not once, but twice? Was he angry with her for leaving him alone-again?

She knew she had to be patient. Giles told her to wait, to let Spike come to her. Let him tell her what he needed. But, he had spent so much time- maybe hundreds of years- alone. Maybe he didn’t know how to ask for help…because there was no one else.

He’d stepped up and been her hero when she didn’t know she needed one. It was time.

Buffy swallowed her fear…and stepped up.

Time to be his hero.

“Spike…?” she breathed, hoping that he would trust her enough to let her help. Her heart caught in her throat when he looked at her. The despair in those blue depths was almost unbearable. “What was it like for you?” she wondered, “How long were you gone?”

Thousands of emotions seemed to war inside him as he stared at her, and they all showed themselves on his face. They were all there.

Fear.

Hope.

Love.

Hate.

Sadness.

A deep, deep sadness wrenched itself from his heart, and made itself known in his voice as he spoke the words Buffy never thought she would hear, “Buffy, help me. Tell me how to live…here. I don’t know…How?”

Suddenly, she found herself rushing toward him, holding him. And strangely, as she felt him lean on her, as she led him to their bedroom, she felt a sense of happiness. A happiness so deep and so profound that she found it hard to keep from laughing. She couldn’t laugh. She knew he wouldn’t understand it, but she felt happy that he was letting her show him, in this small way, how thankful she was to him. In this small way, she was thanking him for things she had never thanked him for before.

She knew she could take whatever was going to come.

They reached the bedroom, and when Buffy opened the door she let him go, gently, and not a bit reluctantly.

Her heart ached as she watched him drift aimlessly into the room and sit on the bed that they’d barely had time to share.

She closed the door softly behind her.

He looked so meek as he sat on the bed. That was an image Buffy knew she wanted to erase from her mind. She wanted him to be strong, to be who he was.

But, who was he, now?

How could she make it better for him?

“Do you want me to…leave you?” Buffy’s throat tightened, even uttering the words; too many bad memories, “Let you rest?”

“No!” Spike hissed vehemently. Buffy was shocked by the rage his voice held. His eyes were full of fire, so intense that it took her breath away. The fear of losing her was clear in his gaze, it was shattering, his fear. He must have read the shock she felt, on her face, because, immediately his eyes fell, and he stuttered, “P-please don’t go.”

“All right.”

“Buffy,” Spike breathed raggedly, his eyes still on the bedspread, “you asked me how long.”

“I did,” Buffy whispered, as she walked to the edge of the bed and knelt in front of him, dreading the answer, “Do you want to tell me?”

His eyes remained hidden from her, “I don’t know,” he said, “How many years? Jonina…? How many…here?”

Buffy’s forehead creased a little, trying to discern his meaning. She bit her lip. How long was a year, where you were, Spike? Did they even have years? “Jonina looks…about eight,” she said.

Spike looked up, his eyes were questioning, “Is that long?” he asked.

“Sometimes.”

His head tilted quizzically, “ ‘Sometimes?’”

The familiar gesture made her want to laugh. That meant that the Spike she knew might still be in there. She smiled a little, “Sorry. I know it’s confusing,” she took a breath and nodded, “Yes. That’s a long time. But, I know you were gone longer. Weren’t you?”

“I don’t know. Before she came, it was cold, and dark. She helped me…survive. The beasts…and the cold…the death…”

Buffy took Spike’s hands in hers, and gave them a slight squeeze, trying to reassure him, “Go on,” she prompted, “I’m here.”

Spike’s eyes shone, and his voice was filled with awe as he spoke, “Yes, you are. The fire took you from me. It blinded me,” he held her hands to ground himself, to help him believe that she was real, “I tried to stop it, but I wasn’t fast. I’m not a quick study, Buffy…”

Buffy’s heart seized as another memory slid into place. Spike, lost and insane, in the school basement.

“I’m not fast. I’m not a quick study. Don’t you think I’m trying?”

“…You died, and then the cold took over. The beasts wanted to kill me, and I did not want to stop them. I wanted to die, Buffy. I tried to make them…But,” his hand left hers, and gripped at his chest, “the animal inside, it wouldn’t let me. I went on…didn’t think. Couldn’t. Until he came.”

“Homer?” Buffy asked.

Spike nodded, “He came. And, I couldn’t understand him. But, he was like you. The pounding, the sound…reminded me of you. He talked to me, even when I couldn’t speak. He understood me, and the beast, in ways that no one did. There was no one else. He brought her, and she made me warm. She brought me light. I knew I had to protect her, and I did.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Then, he told me you would come and take her from me,” Spike’s face crumbled as he relived the pain he’d rather have forgotten; he averted his eyes, overcome with shame, “ You came and took her. You took my light away, and, I hated you for it,” he choked, “Even though I knew it had to be, I still hated that you took the warmth with you. I’m sorry, Buffy.”

Buffy listened, silently taking it all in, and trying to reconcile it with what she knew. Homer had said that Spike was alone, and had been for years, long enough that he’d forgotten his own name, or even how to speak. She didn’t think it was even possible, but here it was, from Spike’s own lips.

What Homer and Giles said was true. And now, Homer was gone, and Giles was in Rome, so far away…

“I’m sorry, Spike,” she was horrified at what he’d been through, but she had to help him, “Tell me what I can do…to help you.”

“It was so much easier when he was here…” his voice was heavy with tears and repressed anger and hurt.

There were years of hurt that Buffy knew she’d never be able to touch. She knew that he would never let her in completely, because she knew that he saw her as one of the reasons he’d been put in that Hell. After all, she’d given him the amulet, when it should have been Angel.

She wanted to help, but all she could do now was listen. “…But now he’s gone,” Spike was saying, “Homer’s gone…and I’m so tired. I should have known. He’s family. Kin. I should have known, but now, I can’t protect her. Buffy, I don’t know how. I don’t know what…” his voice trailed off, despondent.

“Shh,” Buffy whispered, taking her hands from his and gently pushing him back against the pillow and bedspread, “you don’t have to protect her anymore. I’ll do it. You lie back and rest. You’ve earned it.”

Slowly, Spike’s body began to yield, and he reclined on the bed, sleep quickly overwhelming him. Buffy sighed, grateful that he could trust her enough to sleep, and began to get up from her knees. The slight movement awakened him, and he grasped her arm tightly, “No, Buffy. Don’t go!” he said, desperately.

Buffy stood there for a moment, looking at the anguish that was expressed by the lines on his face and in his eyes, and she knew that she couldn’t abandon him.

She nodded, and silently climbed onto the bed next to him.

She held him for a long time, thinking of all that he’d gone through. She knew that Giles would know more, and she would call him. Tomorrow. Liam might know something too, but right now, none of that mattered. What mattered now was keeping the people she loved- Joni and Spike- safe.

Nothing else was more important.

And, as Buffy felt Spike’s arm tighten around her waist, and listened as his breathing fell into that gentle, unnecessary, purr that was so familiar to her, she smiled.

She had succeeded, at least for now. He knew he was safe. Safe enough to let the world off his shoulders, and fall asleep in her arms.

DECEMBER 18, 2027-

The glee in her eyes made him want to flee. There was too much power here. It was nearly unrestrained, undisciplined. He steeled himself against her.

No. He would not yield. The shine of her eyes was too much. That kind of power was dangerous.

And the Slayer was here. He felt her. He was a fool to stay.

Yet, something about her, and the power that seemed to strum the air around her, made him unable to look away.

“Who are you?” Oscar asked in a whisper.

The shine grew brighter as her eyes widened. She hadn’t expected his question. “Me?” she asked, “I’m Willow. But, you’re not here because of me,” her eyes drifted up and she sighed, “I mean, you are, but…It’s a long story.” Her mouth formed a grim line. She was scowling, and for someone so young, she looked very old. “You’re from Drusilla’s line, right?”

Oscar was taken aback, “How did…? You know what I am?”

The redheaded witch nodded, “I do. And, we need your help,” she looked over her shoulder at someone within the cottage, “Buffy…?” she sighed.

Oscar took an involuntary step back. He knew that name. There was no vampire, no demon, who did not know that name. * The Slayer. The genocidal maniac who’s nearly wiped out my kind, and with them all that had any connection to me. Drusilla…Angelus…Darla…The Master… All their endings have her mark on them, in one way or another. I’m grateful for Angelus, but…the rest…I’ve spent years hiding. And now, the witch has brought me here? Why? *

The witch stepped back, drifting out of sight. The killer of vampires stood in the doorway, then. He had expected to see hatred in her eyes. He expected to feel hatred. After all, she * was * the Slayer. But, he did not.

What he did feel, almost as if a great wave had crashed into him and swept him under its weight is something he did not expect. Not from a Slayer. Not from * this* Slayer.

From this Slayer, he felt kinship, and the reason for this sense of kinship was a surprise.

He saw grief. Gnawing, horrible grief that was so much like he remembered his Mary’s was, and the young Squire’s too, that sorrowful winter morn when innocence died at the hands of a madman and a monster. Her eyes seemed desperate. And somehow he knew that he was the hope she had a fingertip hold upon, though he was at a loss to explain why.

He was at a loss to explain why he felt anything but pure hatred for her, this killer. The one who had all but annihilated him, and others like him.

The Slayer let out a sigh, “Oh, thank God. I was starting to give up hope.”

His eyes narrowed. He was suspicious, and rightly so. She’d disrupted the balance. Threw the world into chaos. That was not something the universe forgave. His blood boiled with rage. It wasn’t something * he * would forgive.

She’d made him one of the last. Certainly, he was the last of Aurelius.

“I know you, you know,” he said menacingly, “and, I think you know what I am. I could kill you,” he whispered, “And I will. So, I know you know not to let me cross your threshold,” his head tilted to one side, and he saw a strange, warm, spark in the Slayer’s eyes. It was interesting, but he could not afford to be distracted. She had to pay for what she did, “if you wish to live,” he finished.

The Slayer sighed wearily, her shoulders slumped and she said, in a voice that sounded centuries older than her body seemed to be, “And when all this is over,” she gave a sad little smile, and her eyes had a far away light, “if…I’d be more than happy to go toe to toe with you. Believe me. But now, there’s something you should know.”

“And, what can you tell me?” he hissed, his throat raw with pain and anger, “What could I possibly say to a vampire slayer? Don’t invite me in. Do you not think I can draw you out?” Oscar challenged, “And, when I do, I will show you no pity…”

“Oh, please,” Buffy sighed, “We’re wasting time. This pissing contest is typical, but it’s a waste of time…” her voice trailed off, seemingly choked by the pain the vampire could see radiating from her, “And, he doesn’t have much left. I can feel it. Can’t you?”

Oscar blinked. He did feel it. There was something that drew him here. He didn’t know what it was, but he felt it tearing, squeezing his chest in a way that nothing had since he had to watch Mary grieve, knowing that he could never comfort her, could never see her again.

And it hurt.

“What do you mean?” he asked, biting his lip.

She gritted her teeth, her eyes flashing, “I mean,” Buffy said, her voice quavering, “that if you don’t stop posturing, and * trust * me, you really * could * be the last of the Aurelius line…”

Oscar remembered that vividly. Standing at the threshold of the little building on Jennings Street, the Synergy Dojo, brought it all back, and his throat tightened a little, and something fluttered in his stomach.

Liam would not awaken for some time. He did not expect to feel him stirring, feel his fledgling calling out to him, until, at the very latest, daybreak, and that was hours away.

Liam’s awakening was far enough away. And as Oscar stood at the door, poised to knock, he knew it was time for him to introduce himself to her.
***********************************************************************

Buffy sighed. Spike was next to her, and he was sleeping. That made her unbelievably happy. She was curled tightly against him and she did not want to leave. Ever. Not that she could, had she wanted to, because, even in his sleep, Spike did not want to let her go, either. His arm was draped across her, in a seemingly haphazard, loose grip of sleep. It was anything but loose though; but Buffy didn’t mind. The slight ache in her side, the pinpoints of pressure that came from his fingertips, served as a reminder both that he was here, and of what he’d been through.

The puffs of unneeded air drifted over her skin. They sounded like purring. And, she was happy.

Until something else washed over her skin, raising her hackles, causing gooseflesh to break out all over her body. Something cold. Something alien, and unwanted- especially now.

“Damn,” Buffy whispered through gritted teeth, “just what I do not need!”

A vampire.

There was a knock at the door.

Wait. Do vampires knock? She answered her own question. Some do. Spike did, when he needed help…And, he can’t get in unless I let him in. So…

Buffy quietly, and not too easily, slipped out of Spike’s grasp, and went down the stairs to answer the door.

If he had a beating heart, Oscar felt sure it would be raging against his ribcage in an effort to escape his chest. He could hear the slight movements behind the door, the whispered curse that made him smile despite his better judgment, and he knew that she was behind this door.

The Slayer. Buffy. William’s…Spike’s wife.

As the door opened, the fire in her eyes left no doubt in Oscar’s mind. This was the one that William had loved, and it was easy to see why.

How could he not love her? She is so much like he…was. So full of life.

She looked him over. Small, skinny, not much to look at, really. But then, looks could be deceiving.

“Who are you,” she asked, curtly, “and, what do you want, here?”

“Slayer,” the redheaded vampire replied, “my name is Oscar Lendman,” his blue eyes looked down at his feet. He seemed nervous.

Well, duh, Buffy thought, standing on the Slayer’s doorstep isn’t exactly good for a vampire’s health.

“…And, I need your help,” Oscar said.

Buffy waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. “Okay,” she said, as her mouth pulled into a smirk, “You do know that I’m a Slayer, right?”

Oscar nodded and his eyes glowed with a mixture of fear and awe, “You don’t seem to be the type to be ‘a’ anything. And yes, I do know you. I’d be a fool not to.”

Buffy couldn’t help it. A surge of pride shot through her and she stood just a little straighter. He knew who she was. And that made her feel good.

But there was something else that didn’t make her feel so good. It scared her, in fact, but she wasn’t about to let that show. If she did, things could get ugly fast. “Good,” she said, easily, suddenly grateful that this vampire would never be able to get into the dojo. And there was no way that she was letting him out of her sight. It would be too easy to light a match, and there was no way that she was going to put Spike through that again.

There was something odd about this, and not just Slayer-odd, really odd.

Spike’s still asleep. So, either he’s exhausted, and trusts me to protect him, which, again, given where he’s just come from and our past history, is odd. Or, he doesn’t sense a threat, which is odd. Given where he’s just come from, he would see everything as a threat.

She regarded him with a suspicious eye, “We understand each other, then,” Buffy said. “Why on earth should I help you?”

Oscar couldn’t help but smile. The sense of déjà vu was a little overwhelming, and he felt the tickle of a laugh beginning to bubble up from the depths of his chest. He had to bite his lip, and avert his eyes to stifle it. It really wouldn’t do him any good at all, or William either, if she thought he was unbalanced in any way.

If this was to happen, she had to trust him.

“You shouldn’t,” he acquiesced, speaking softly, his gaze pulled to the boundary he knew he could not cross, “But I was there,” his throat felt raw and tight suddenly. He didn’t want to reveal too much, “…at Wolfram and Hart, when Angelus took control,” he chanced a look at her then, and he saw the fury burning inside of her. She had no idea… “I was there before, actually. And, I know the deal he struck with the Senior Partners for control of the Los Angeles office. I was there until the last. Until the battle,” he winced at that, and looked away again. Just how much could he tell her? How much would indeed help, and how much would endanger what was about to happen? Had he already said too much? Was it already too late? “…And its aftermath. I may know how to help your husband. Or, failing that, I can tell you what’s been done to him.”
****************************************************************************************

FEBRUARY 24, 2004- LOS ANGELES-

Oscar really tried to keep focused on the game. Vampires weren’t supposed to have tells. After all, there was no heartbeat, no real circulation and no need to breathe, but for him, it was hard not to sweat and stutter.

He had aces and eights. Again.

And, he was sitting across the poker table from him. Spike. How was it possible…? Perhaps it had been too long. Too many years had gone by.

William didn’t recognize him. He thought of him as just another cog in the machinery, the well-oiled mechanism that is Wolfram and Hart.

And, maybe that was for the best. At least this way, his opinion might not weigh much. He might not have a detrimental effect on the outcome.

At least he hoped he wouldn’t.

Esther’s cheerfully pleasant voice drifted into his consciousness. “…I think you’re right Spike, “ she was saying, “Cavemen would win. Now, ante up. It’s your call. Or,” she purred seductively, “do you fold?”

His eyes flashed defiantly at her. There was a bit of flattered glee in them. And Oscar had no trouble finding the boy he once knew, hiding beneath the lightning flash, and it only made him more uneasy. There was no doubt now.

This was William.

“I will never admit defeat, Pet,” Spike purred, “ Not without a good brawl, anyway.”

“Ohhh,” Esther cooed, sounding less like an accountant, and more like an actress from a less-than-“B”-movie, “That sounds like fun.”

“Only if I lose,” Spike teased her, “And I never lose, Pet.”

Esther whinged, clearly disappointed.

Spike pouted, “ Sorry, Love. It just wouldn’t be fair to you. My heart’s spoken for. Glad to know you’re in my camp though.”

“She’s lucky,” Esther said.

Spike’s eyes flashed darkly, exposing a sea of pain and sadness, “Yeah, well,” he grumbled.

Oscar knew that he was speaking of her. And he felt his pain.

He looked away. The sexually charged banter made Oscar more than a bit uncomfortable, but at least William wasn’t focused on him.

Then suddenly, his eyes turned to him again, and Oscar felt his stomach drop. He saw concern in the boy’s eyes.

Was it concern for him?

His mouth was moving, but Oscar could not hear the sound.

The vampire sitting across from him narrowed his eyes, studying him, and his mouth moved again. This time the sound came rushing back, almost making him wince. “You all right, mate?” Spike asked, “You’re lookin’ a little green. Did you get hold of some bad otter’s blood?”

Oscar blinked. “What?”

“You’re looking a bit green around the gills,” Spike said again, “And, I asked you a question.”

“Oh. What?”

“I’ve got a little wager with the big boss man. I’m takin’ a poll. In a fight, who would win, cavemen or astronaughts? What do you think, Oscar?”

Oscar thought for a moment, took into account everything he knew would happen, and everything he hoped wouldn’t, and asked a question, “Do the astronaughts have weapons?”

The smile that Spike flashed was dazzling, “No.”

Oscar sighed, “Then that’s easy,” he said sadly, “Cavemen win.”
***************************************************************

Buffy studied him intensely. This was a vampire. There was no doubt about that. And there was something about him that didn’t make him seem like a threat.

His eyes were sad. There was something very deep-rooted there. He cared. She could see that.

And Spike was still asleep. So, there was no threat. Yet. But, she’d be a fool to let him in.

“Okay,” she said, arms crossing over her chest, her stance widening in the doorway, “You’ve got my attention. You know what Angel did."

He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Talk,” Buffy said, “I’m listening.”

Oscar took a deep breath. Her eyes were blazing with fire and he had to look away. How to tell her? Should he tell her?

He’d been told how strong, how stubborn she was. He’d seen it himself, that fire, but it was smothered by grief by the time he’d seen it. When he’d seen her, she reminded him so much of his Mary that his whole being ached for her, and would do whatever she asked of him.

But seeing the fire now, so furious and wild in her eyes, it was easy to see why William had loved her, and why he’d been sent here…

DECEMBER 23, 2027- 3 A.M. NEW ENGLAND-

Oscar wanted to leave. He wanted to be anywhere but here, in this room. The pain- even without words, it screamed its presence. This wasn’t his place. This was a horror he didn’t want. He’d just found the one other that might know his loneliness and now that was being taken from him. This little family was being ripped at the seams and he would know why, if it was the last thing he ever did, he would avenge them.

At least he’d convinced her to release him from his chains. At least he could die like a man, with his family around him. He deserved that, to know he was loved and cherished.

No one, least of all William Dustin, deserved to die alone, in the dark, like an animal.

No one deserved to die like Diana had.

The snow was easier. It was silent, and it kept him from having to deal with what was happening. The room was full of sorrow, and it was painful to watch him struggle, and to watch them weep, so he watched the snow.

The room was so loud, so painful. He didn’t want it to touch him. But it had to. He had to remember just what was at stake.

He had to remember, for her.

So, he turned to face it.

Joni looked at her mother with shining eyes. She was a young woman now, but somehow, she looked so small. “Mom,” her whisper was ragged, and painful to hear, “I don’t want to,” her jaw twitched and she spoke through clenched teeth, “Please don’t make me leave. Not when…”

“Joni, please,” Buffy cut her off before she could say the words, closing her eyes to shield herself from what was happening. She opened them again with a cleansing breath, “Do this for me. And, for your Daddy.”

Joni’s gaze fell the short distance to where her father lie, and Oscar’s followed suit. He had to remember this…had to tell her.

He wouldn’t let her forget this.

His face was drawn tight over the blue of veins that no longer worked and hadn’t worked with blood of their own in over a century. There was nothing left of him.

Oscar could feel the bond fraying. Everything in him told him to do what he could to save William, wishes be damned.

“Elisabeth,” he ground out, “what is this?” He was losing the battle for rational thought. He was in survival mode now, and it wasn’t * his * survival that he was concerned with. She just stood there…How could she? That was her husband lying there, and yet, she did nothing. Would have him stand by, when he had it within him to help, if only she would permit… “Elisabeth, please!” he hissed, begging her, “You can’t mean to let…!”

Green eyes flared at him, and he fell silent.

“Joni,” she said carefully, her emotions controlled, like a dormant volcano, “please leave now. Oscar and I have to talk.”

Jonina’s eyes widened, but she said nothing, her face set in determination, she nodded curtly and stood. She withdrew from the bedside slowly, her head held high to mask the tears; the salt of them suffused the room. Oscar was sick from the smell of them.

She left the room, and Elisabeth whispered a painfully loving, “Spike, I’m here. The family’s here. We’re not leaving you. Don’t you leave us…” her voice broke; the words felt raw and sharp, and hearing them made Oscar wince, “Not yet…please?’ She kissed him, and came to the window, stood beside him, her face to the snow.

He turned, and waited for her to speak.

“This is something I did to him,” she whispered.

“You did this?” it took everything in him not to bury his fangs in the Slayer’s throat. She had destroyed his kind; if she had anything at all to do with what was happening to William…

“Yes, I did. And he knew it. He had to know. And he still did it. He still saved her…”

The white-hot rage cooled almost as quickly as it had come upon him, and he understood. He looked back over his shoulder. “The girl?”

She nodded, “His daughter. She’s ours,” she choked, “She was taken. Kidnapped. He took her back…and this was the price.”

“Does she know?”

“No,” she said flatly, her eyes lost in the mindless white of the snow, “He doesn’t want her to. If she knew…Poor Joni.”

Suddenly Oscar felt the bond between them tighten again, and this time it would not be ignored. The swell of love was overwhelming.

William felt a kind of love for them, even now, as near death as he was, that he had never felt before. It was almost impossible to ignore.

It was so real, so tangible, that it could almost be a being all on its own.

A voice, loud as a clarion, but too weak to be heard by mortal ears, sounded through him. “Joyce,” Spike whispered, and Oscar shot a look at William.

Could he have spoken?
******************************************************************************

Buffy turned in the doorway, looking up the stairway where they both slept.

No. It wasn’t possible. He was lying.

“No,” she said.

Oscar smiled sadly, and sighed, “A few days ago you believed that your husband was lost, doomed to a kind of hell. A few days ago, you believed he had no soul. The old man is proof you were wrong.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes, confused, “How did you…?”

Oscar only smiled.

“But, he’s gone, and Spike is…”

Oscar’s smile widened, “No, he’s not. He’s waiting.”

“For what?” Despite herself, Buffy felt caught up in what he was saying. It felt real…

“That’s because you know it’s true. I’m telling the truth.”

Buffy swallowed hard, her mouth dry, “Waiting for what?” she asked again.

Again he thought. How much to tell her?

“A chance. A small one, but it is a chance…”

“What?”

“A little girl’s birthday,” Oscar said, “A special little girl’s birthday.”

In the darkness he could feel the hunger, could feel the earth moving. It breathed. It was a living thing, and it screamed.

It didn’t want him anymore. She hated him, and had thrown him away.

But, he wasn’t alone. Something else was here, and he knew it. It was very old, and it had been his family, if not his friend.

And as he opened his eyes to the hunger and the agony of the thirst and the other’s brightness, he was humbled. Finally and completely, he was brought low, and he wondered; was the other still his family, was the other his friend, or did the other hate him, as the earth seemed to?

He wanted to know all these things, but the hunger was too strong. It hurt too much, so much that he couldn’t speak.

The brightness spoke, moved the air so much that it grated his nerves and his body screamed for mercy. The words…he remembered the words from the place he’d just left. They laughed at him. How dare he escape? He didn’t deserve this. He had stolen it, and the earth had taken it back.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” the words laughed, and the brightness hurt, “It’s not like before, is it?”

He shook his head, and the thirst made his blood sing. He was so thirsty…He growled at the laughing, maddening, peaceful light.

“That’s all right,” Homer soothed, as he watched the newly born vampire rise, and begin to feel the bloodlust flow through him, “Old wine in new skin, isn’t that it?” he smiled, remembering how he felt, so long ago, “Except now, the thirst is tempered, isn’t it? It makes the stomach turn a little more, because you know what it is you need, and what you are. It hurts because you know, don’t you?”

He nodded, and the earth screamed again. Told him he was a filthy, vile creature that belonged in the fire.

Homer understood. “I know,” he said, “I’ll stay with you until your sire gets here. He’ll teach you…and then, you’ll teach Joni.”
************************************************************************
He slept; and as he did, he felt the bond of family around him. His senses spoke to him. They sang to him of love and warmth, of things he’d never thought he’d have, and hadn’t had in a long time. It was so long ago that, there was no word for it.

Was it…? The word was there. He knew it. Was it…forgiveness? Was it…mercy? No. This was something beautiful…there were no words for this, in any language- not for the monster he was, now.

He couldn’t speak of this, even if he had a word for what it was.

It swirled around him, and made him warm. The warmth took form.

A form he knew. A form he loved.

It was she. She was like a summer day…

Joyce was here. He hadn’t seen her since…No. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. She was here, and he felt so loved. So loved that it had to be…wrong. He looked up at Joyce in awe, and she smiled, “Hello, Spike,” her voice sang to him like a thousand angels.

“Joyce, they can’t mean that. Can they?” She had to know. She would know why. What had he done? It was just too beautiful; the sound of their voices was too much to bear. His heart was swelling; burning like it had once before.

He felt it, and he was astonished.

Joyce was pleased with his reaction. He was like a child who’d just been given the one gift he’d always wanted. She smiled at him again, “Oh they’re serious. Deception is the Home Office’s territory. Here, we’re honest, almost to a fault, if such a thing exists.”

“But there has to be some kind of mistake. Nothing I did… No good I did, can justify this!” he gaped.

There must be some mistake. It can’t be true. He was a monster. There was no good in him anymore. That died. He could never have it back.

“Well,” Joyce smiled, “believe me, Spike. You’ve earned this,” her eyes twinkled brightly, “And, I’m honored to be the one to tell you. Thank you,” she sighed, and her voice sounded so sweet. It was like music. A music he’d never thought he’d hear.

It was just…too beautiful. He didn’t deserve it.

“But, how? Who? I couldn’t have…There aren’t enough people…”

He saw tears in her eyes. He’d made her cry. That proved it. He was a monster. “Spike!” she said, her voice nearly a sob, “Don’t cloud the issue with numbers,” she looked around their surroundings and asked, incredulously, “Do you see any scales here, any weights or measures?”

He shook his head, not comprehending her meaning.

“Counting is for others,” she said slowly, “It’s not for you. All the people in the world wouldn’t bring some to where you are.”

“That’s just it. Why…”

“Spike, trust me. For once, don’t question it. Not this. Just take it.”

Something in her voice stopped him. He lowered his head in submission, “You’re right, Joyce. I’m sorry. I’ll take it.”

“Good,” Joyce sighed.

Nearly prostrate with gratitude and awe, if he could have he would have kissed her feet, if she had feet to kiss. All he saw of her was light, and all he felt was love.

He didn’t belong here.

He felt his whole body tighten, waiting for the catch.

She seemed to sense this, “Spike,” she said, with a trace of the sweetness he knew very well, “You’ve done so much. Don’t you want it?”

“Oh very much,” he sighed. “I just didn’t think it was possible. I gave it away…”

Joyce nodded, knowingly, “But soon, beggars will ride, Spike. And the missing piece will finally fit.”

The warmth that had been Joyce disappeared and became something else; it was something new and yet very old.

“Who are you?” Spike whispered.

He didn’t get an answer, but something inside him knew, and wasn’t afraid.

He woke, and the love and warmth he felt propelled him to her. She was family, and he felt her near, “Buffy?” he whispered, calling out to her.

“Here, Spike,” her sweet voice answered; and he was so happy that he understood- even though he felt so empty and lost- that he was “Spike.” Her voice pulled him along, to her side, where he wanted, in his emptiness, to belong, “…and we have visitors.”

There was something about her voice that hurt. Something wasn’t right.

He carefully descended the staircase- and there. In the doorway, was a face from his past; from before, and after, he’d been banished to the half-life of agony and anguish.

Seeing him, he knew his name, so near his only source of light and love, so near his Buffy that he could almost touch her, made him wonder what other terrors were yet in store for him and his family, “Oscar?” He was unsure. Was it really…? He couldn’t remember… “What are you doing here?” he growled.

The vampire tried to scurry away from the light, but he could not. The light seemed to follow him. It seemed to flood the place he was in and there was no escape.

No escape.

The light burned him through, and he wanted to atone, but he knew he could not.

Nothing would make this right. There would never be enough. Never…

The creature quivered at the memories. Were they memories? Why did the earth hate him so much? What had he done?

The newly born creature cried for mercy, but found little of it in the voice of its companion; he coward away, its light still tormenting him.

The voice was soft, but there was no comfort in it. It was cold, and sharp, “I’m sorry it hurts,” Homer said, “Does that surprise you, that I would say that?”

The vampire blinked, astonished. “Why?” he asked.

The light moved closer still, yet would not burn him, and the voice was offering an echo of warmth, as though it knew the words to say, but had forgotten the meaning, or the feeling the words held within them. The voice was brittle, “I went through it. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. I wouldn’t even wish it on you.”

A memory flashed across the vampire’s brain, and suddenly the creature that had been, but now was somehow, not Angel, called the light by its name, “Spike?” he whispered.

The vampire didn’t know how, but he saw something he held dear, in the light, something he knew.

The light grew brighter somehow, and the vampire had to shield his eyes if he was going to endure the light’s presence. The cadence within the light was familiar, “I haven’t used that name…in a long time,” it seemed to sigh, affectionately, “But yes, that was my name. It is now…”

“How?” The vampire wouldn’t have believed it was possible, for he could not feel a soul within his breast, but it was true, he felt tears sting his eyes, and wet his face.

He was weeping in the presence of a marvelous thing. He might even dare to call it a miracle.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Homer said, “And right now, it’s unfinished. There is a piece or two that still has to fall into place. Sacrifices have yet to be made. And you have promises to keep…”

“I don’t understand.”

The light smiled. “And neither did Joni. You have to help her understand. And now you have years to do it. Don’t worry. I’ve got the time. I can wait.”

APRIL 30, 2030- LOS ANGELES-

Oscar couldn’t keep his hands from shaking. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking at, but it was starting to add up, and it was adding up to something incredible. He’d done extensive research into what Wolfram and Hart had intended to do with Angelus, and the magic that was used to power the amulet that William had worn that faithful, wondrous day.

He didn’t think it was possible but… maybe, just maybe, he’d found her.

Now, maybe there was hope. For the first time in five months, longer than that, really, he thought that he might be able to convince her that his death wasn’t useless. It wasn’t in vain. There was a reason for all the suffering and sacrifice he had endured.

Now maybe he could keep the promise he’d made William on the night he died.

Oscar was hopeful. He hadn’t felt this hopeful since before William died, and the bond was severed. He hadn’t felt this hopeful since he learned what the amulet had done to him all those years ago.

There had always been legends, and from what Elisabeth and Willow had said about him before he’d taken ill, Spike- it still felt odd referring to William like that, but that was how they knew him and he didn’t know them well enough to take such liberties as to call the vampire they knew by any other name- seemed to confirm them.

Perhaps they were true, and if the energy that was Jonina still existed, if he was able to pinpoint where she was, then perhaps this could come to pass.

He hadn’t dared to hope. Hadn’t told her, for fear that he might fail her, give her false hope. But, he was positive now.

Her husband still had a chance.

Now, if he could only convince Elisabeth.

As soon as his hands stopped shaking he would call Willow. The witch seemed to be close to William’s widow, and he knew that she knew more about what happened to him than she was revealing. It is possible that Elisabeth would see the urgency he felt if the witch could explain what the amulet seems to have done to Spike.

Yes. Even if Elisabeth thought him mad, driven to flights of fancy, due to grief and loneliness, if not a stranger, she would believe someone with whom she had shared the heat of battle.

Yes. She would believe Willow.

He hoped it wasn’t already too late…
*********************************************************************
Oscar quickly shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and hoped that the Slayer didn’t notice that they were shaking. Spike had asked him a question, and he didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He could only stare; stare and feel the sire’s bond sing again within him, something he’d only known once it was gone.

Something he’d missed, very much once it was gone.

What was he doing here, indeed?

Spike’s voice was rough, and cold with a hatred Oscar understood, but had hoped wouldn’t be there. Doesn’t he feel it too…? “You worked for them, didn’t you? Wolfram and Hart?” he asked, as he slowly approached the open doorway.

“I do,” Oscar spoke slowly, deliberately, and even though it was a struggle, he maintained eye contact with Spike. There was too much at stake here, too much to lose, to falter now. To lie now, even to himself, could endanger so much more than just his standing, or his existence.

“Wait,” Buffy interrupted, her green eyes blazing with anger and confusion, looking between the two vampires, “You work for them, and you come here asking for help?” Her venom, and the heat of her words, was anticipated, but Oscar was still hurt by her reaction. He had to remind himself that this was not the Elisabeth he had grieved with, the one he’d come to know, and he hoped that that person would never come into being.

If all went well, and he had an ounce of hope left…Please, Rabbit, don’t give up. Don’t give up hope.

The fire in her eyes died as she looked back at Spike, replaced by the softness of pain and understanding, or the desire to understand what he’d gone through, “You know him?” she asked softly.

Spike nodded. His eyes darted nervously from her to him and back, and as they widened a little, Oscar knew that he was trying to put the fragments of memory together.

Does he remember Mary, and little Diana?

“You know what they did to me?” Spike asked, his gaze locked to his suddenly, “You know what happened there…? What I saw…?”

It wasn’t the answer Oscar had expected, and the fire in his eyes was almost too intense for him, but he would take it.

He couldn’t lie to him.

“Yes,” Oscar admitted, “I know. And, I hope I can help. I hope I can keep my promise to you,” Oscar lowered his eyes and whispered, “And to you, Elisabeth…”

Buffy’s breath caught. Homer called me that. Could it be…? Buffy was suspicious, but Spike wasn’t sounding the alarm, and she trusted him, “Spike,” she said cautiously, her eyes turning back to his, “it’s up to you. What do you think?”

Oscar saw the confusion flash across Spike’s face, and the trepidation in his eyes, and he was pained, but sighed, “You don’t have to trust me,” he said, putting up his hand in a gesture of weariness and surrender, “Just do what you can to learn about the amulet that your husband wore that day on the Hellmouth, Elisabeth. It was even more volatile than Angelus knew,” Oscar could feel the dawn approaching. He had to get back to his fledgling. He turned to leave, smiling sadly over his shoulder at the two who still held the future in their hands, “He knows that, now,” Oscar said, “and so should you.”

Oscar knew he had to get back before the sun came up and a new day began.

DECEMBER 4, 2005- ROME

Giles scribbled furiously, trying to transcribe what he heard, “That’s l-o-t-e-r? Yes, I’ve got it,” he shook his head, “ Yes, we do have people who can help us to locate him. Stephen Riley will be taking the next flight to the States, and Los Angeles. He may be of assistance in that. Can you gain access to the object in question? I see. Well, I will put you in touch with an associate of ours. She is acquainted with Spike, as well as the former C.E.O. of the Los Angeles branch. She will tell you where your search may be most fruitful. Once you find it, please make sure it gets to Mrs. Buffy Summers-Dustin-number 80 Jennings Street- Los Angeles. No, I will tell her to expect it. Thank you for your help, Miss Johansen. Pia,” he smiled, “Yes, thank God for the computer age. Everything still has a paper trail. Thank you again,” he said as he hung up the phone.

“Well,” Xander pressed, “What did she say? Did Wolfram and Hart have a file on Spike or not?”

“Yes they did. They opened the file when it was discovered that he wore the amulet, rather than Angel. It seems that the firm had intended to coerce Angel to do their bidding first by giving him power, then by tying him to their firm through the amulet,” Giles sighed, “It was hoped, apparently, that he would be grateful for his ‘rescue,’ and overlook some of the firm’s more shady dealings.”

“ ‘Rescue?’ From where?” Dawn asked.

“From a dimension called X’yxeth. It’s a Loterminenthalogcial dimension.”

“A who?” Xander questioned.

“A dimension where one’s most hidden thoughts are collected, and made real.”

“You mean, like the time the kid in the coma made all of our nightmares come true?”

“Yes Xander, I suppose I do. Except, rather than a localized disturbance, as was the case in Sunnydale, essentially, an entire world could be populated with terrors such as we experienced.”

“Oh,” Xander groaned, “That could be bad.”

“Indeed.”

“But, Angel didn’t wear the amulet. Spike did. What does that mean for him?” Dawn bit her lip and her eyes widened with worry, “What was the amulet supposed to do?”

“The amulet was designed to hold Angel prisoner. Until he agreed to Wolfram and Hart’s terms of release,” Giles said grimly.

“What terms?” Dawn asked.

“Allow the apocalypse to proceed, unchallenged. Angel only discovered the true nature of the talisman when he became C.E.O. of Wolfram and Hart. By then, it was too late to help Spike.”

Dawn was horrified, “You mean, that Angel let Fred die, and possibly the Slayers, because he was trying to get Spike out of there?”

“Yes,” Giles lowered his eyes and his voice was barely a whisper, “I’m afraid so.”

“And, did they come through with their end of the deal.”

“No.”

“Which just proves that lawyers are evil personified,” Xander commented, “Angel should have seen that one coming.”

“So,” Dawn asked, “ Spike is still trapped there?”

Giles nodded, “There is a portion of his soul that was not released into the ether when he rescued Buffy from Drusilla. So yes. A part of him is still trapped there.”

Dawn could feel her throat tightening, “And, what happens to Spike, or us, if we try to get him back?”

“There’s no way to know.”
*********************************

DECEMBER 22, 2005- LOS ANGELES-

Buffy watched Oscar leave, and was thankful that he did. There was something about him that she just didn’t like, and it wasn’t just that he was a vampire. There was something especially creepy about him, and if he was the guy that left that picture of Angel on the doorstep a few nights ago…

Did he say something about Angel…?

She felt a cold come over her, and begin to smother her. She was frightened, more frightened than she’d ever been. So frightened that she found it difficult to breathe.

The question was…why?

Her hands trembled as she closed the door. She turned to Spike, and instantly knew why she felt the way she did. It was obvious.

She had seen him angry and hurt, driven mad by lust and guilt, and she’d seen him when he was frightened. But, as she turned around, she knew she had never seen him…that scared.

“Spike,” she said quietly, “it’s all right. He’s gone now.” She could see him trembling, and could feel her own heart pounding hard against her ribs in response to his distress. She felt the need to be close to him, so she moved slowly toward him. The closeness only seemed to intensify her own need, and her head became fogged with fear, and she knew why, “Joni’s upstairs,” she said, for herself as much as him. Hearing it was reassuring, but it didn’t stop the pounding, or the haunted look in his eye; she wanted to do what she could to take the fear away from him, “Can you tell me?” she asked, “I’m here,” Buffy nodded, her gaze, that she hoped was reassuring, and did not reveal how frightened she was, never leaving his, “I’m not leaving. I lived on a Hellmouth,” her mouth turned up in a slight smirk, “And I married a vampire…you think you could scare me away, now? No way in Hell, mister. Please tell me. I need to know from you, not some stranger, and not Giles…I need to know, Spike. Please tell me.”

Spike opened his mouth to speak, even drew the breath he needed, but found he could not. He looked down in shame, and Buffy drew even closer to him. When she did, Spike took a step back, away from her, as if he were afraid to touch her, “Please don’t!” he hissed, “Don’t touch me. I’m dirty…unclean. I told you to leave me there!” his eyes weren’t haunted now, they were blazing with anger and fear, “Why couldn’t you go away and leave me, let me forget?”

Buffy could feel the pressure of tears behind her eyes, and if they were falling, she wasn’t going to stop them. He needed to see what he meant to her, “I couldn’t,” she said, “Being without you hurt. I don’t know why, but it hurt!” she croaked. Placing a hand over her heart, she whispered, “Here.”

“I know,” Spike spoke softly, looking up at her, pain in his eyes, “I felt it…for years…I felt it. I felt so empty, without you. And, I couldn’t stay away. I wanted to, needed to…but the ache…” he fell silent, pain and loss clouding his face.

“Then you know. How could you ask me that? Joni needed you…I needed you.”

“Buffy…” his tone was gruff and tight.

“No, it’s true. I couldn’t leave you. I had to be near you, and somehow I knew that you weren’t…”

“But I am!” he growled, “I’m not the same, I can’t be…not without…it. Him. And he’s gone.”

“Are you talking about your soul?” Buffy tried to keep her voice low, not wanting to wake Joni, who she hoped was still sleeping peacefully, “Because, that doesn’t matter to me. I told you that,” she tried to step closer to him, silently, begging him to understand that she was telling him the truth, finally. It really didn’t matter to her anymore.

Spike shook his head sadly, but did not move away from her, “I’m not talking about William’s soul, Buffy,” he said, “I’m talking about mine. Do you understand now? Mine.”

Buffy nodded.

“And, I’m afraid, Buffy,” Spike continued, “They told me…”

“Who told you what, Spike?” Buffy whispered.

“Doesn’t matter who, matters what. They told me…” he swallowed hard, closed his eyes, and his voice became a soft pleading sob; a sob that was desperate, reaching for her, he confessed the one fear that had broken him, and had allowed him to become an animal. An animal he feared he had brought into her world because of his weakness, “They told me,” he sobbed, “that if I came back…Joni would die…”

“Oh, God!” Buffy gasped, “They have to be lying. They’re lying, Spike!”

They just had to be lying. This was Wolfram and Hart, after all…They were lying.

Spike murmured as if he hadn’t heard her, “And now, I won’t be able to love her, while she’s here…hold her, or even know her, because…it’s gone!”

Both parents were so lost in their grief that they didn’t notice a pair of little girl eyes, watching them from the top of the stairs. Tears were streaming down her face as she whispered, in a quiet, hurt little voice, “Oh, Papa…no!”

JUNE 28, 2030- LOS ANGELES-

Buffy could barely contain her rage. She turned on him, and it was so familiar. There he was staring at her, daring her, “Spike, I…” she stopped. No, not Spike. Never Spike. “Oscar,” she seethed, “I don’t care if you are,” she felt her heart clench at her mistake; it still felt like he was with her, like she could feel him- and Joni too- but, they were both gone now. She closed her eyes and swallowed the sob. He made her so mad sometimes, just like he did. She struggled with the next words, it was sometimes hard to think about what he was; *was…Oh, God…* the words came falling out of her, and she felt like dying as they fell, “of Drusilla’s line. You were never his *family!* And, fangs…?” she narrowed her eyes at him, “Not exactly the thing you need to convince a *vampire slayer* that you’re sane! I’ve lost my husband, and I couldn’t protect my daughter.” Buffy sank, listlessly into the kitchen chair, the sadness overwhelming her. “Like mother, like daughter,” she whispered, her voice revealing a pain that she would rather have forgotten, “She’s missing,” Buffy couldn’t bring herself to say, or even *think* the word, the other word, the one she feared so much, “And, I have to train her replacement. I have things to do. It’s all I can do. We *are not*,” she spoke through clenched teeth, “talking about this again!” Her pain and grief seemed to give her renewed strength, and she stood up, “Two years, Oscar!” she cried, for herself, and for him, “*Two years* of this!” she let the tears fall, “Let him rest, can’t you?” she begged.

There was silence. Oscar was stunned. Never before had she questioned his sanity…but now…He clutched at the papers, his fist trembling; they were what he had now, his one hope. He offered her the words, softly, like a prayer, “But, there’s hope, there is! I know it! They’re both still here,” Oscar shook his fist, showing her the papers again, “This just proves it. All we need do is find them…”

DECEMBER 22, 2005-

Her words rang in Oscar’s head, as he stared at Angelus- cum- human-cum-fledgling vampire: “Was there something in Drusilla’s blood that made every vampire that drank from her crazy, or something?”

And as he looked deeply into the new vampire’s eyes, he began to wonder, because he could see that there was something wrong; a vacant look, as though he’d been shocked. With that dazed, frightened look, Oscar could feel his hope slipping.

Jonina would need a teacher, someone to tell her what, it seemed now, her father could not and Angelus would not.

Someone had to teach her, prepare her for the hope that was to come.

Could he do it? Was this, indeed, insane?

Oscar moved to the corner of the shed that protected him, and the other vampire, from the coming morning, the corner in which Angelus was crouched, and looked into his eyes, “Can you hear me?” he asked, searching for what he knew- what he hoped- was there, some kind of understanding, and maybe remorse.

But, he found nothing.

Oscar felt his demon begin to rise within him, and made an effort to push it back. He looked down at the concrete floor at his feet, and saw the unsullied, beaming stone eyes of the toy he’d rescued from the rail yard. He picked it up and held it as though it were made of the most fragile crystal, because, to him, it was. This was it. The one, the rabbit he’d heard stories of, and that had come to symbolize his own hope; a hope he still held out for himself, and that was this: that he would see his little Diana, and his beloved Mary again one bright day, and he would be with them again- and that hope was lying in the in the dark, on the cold floor.

He just hoped it wasn’t too late.

It hadn’t been until he’d seen what that amulet had done, and what Jonina’s grief could do, that he began to hope. Hope that, perhaps, she was small enough to believe, and change the sadness he knew would come, into joy.

“Oh, Rabbit,” he whispered, as he held the toy lovingly, “Are you strong enough?”
******************************************************************

Joni couldn’t remember seeing her Daddy that sad. It was hard, and it hurt to see him like that. She had heard him say that he was afraid. He’d never been afraid before. He’d always been so brave, and he’d always kept her safe, at home.

But, this was not her home. This was a very scary place, and there were monsters everywhere. Her Daddy couldn’t fight them all. She knew that, and she knew she was too small to fight them for him.

And Mommy, she seemed just as sad. Even telling her how pretty she was didn’t seem to make her very happy.

Joni could feel her stomach starting to hurt. She could see them crying, and even though what her Daddy was saying made no sense, she knew that he was talking about her.

Her Daddy was crying. He was scared, and she knew it was because of her.

“…I thought that I could protect her, that I could do this,” Spike was saying, “I thought I could have you, and Joni too. But, I was wrong, and now,” his voice became a growl, “I’m here, but I’ve lost you both again!” he paused when the shriek of an emergency siren cut through the early morning stillness outside. He winced at the sound as it passed. “Being here,” he continued, his voice low, and full of loss, “and not knowing you, after all I’ve seen?” he swallowed hard, swallowed the pain that was trying to escape; he wouldn’t let it escape, if it did escape, it might kill them both, “That would be worse than not having you at all,” he told her.

Buffy shook her head, moving in close to hold him, and he did not pull away from her when she held him, “It doesn’t have to be that way,” she said, “ I can help you, I know I can, if it comes to that. But, it won’t.” she assured him, “ I have the amulet. We’ll find out what it did,” she nodded as his head ducked under her chin, and said, in a soft, far-away voice, “I’ll smash it, if I have to,” she ignored the tears that were falling over her cheeks, “I promise you that.”

Joni watched her Mommy and Daddy crying, and she got mad.

What could make her Daddy cry? Whatever it was that could do that must be really bad…Was it her, did she do that?

She could fix it. She and Spike could fix it…Papa could fix it…

Without thinking, she ran down the stairs, and stood just outside her parents’ embrace. She looked at them for what seemed, to her, to be a long time. They hadn’t noticed her. She was quiet for a moment, then, putting her hands on her hips, Joni made a growling sound in her throat.

She smiled when they turned to look at her.

Buffy couldn’t help it, seeing Joni standing there with her hands on her hips, her dark eyes flashing, she had to smile. And, she thought she saw Spike’s mouth turn up a little, along with an eyebrow. “Well,” Buffy said, stifling a giggle, “I guess we know who her Mommy is, don’t we?”

Spike groaned softly against her. It didn’t seem to be sad, it seemed as though another distant memory was back in its place. Good, she thought, Now, if I could just make that keep happening, maybe we can beat this thing, whatever it is… “Joni,” she asked, “is there something you want, Sweetheart?”

Joni nodded, saying, “Yes, to tell Daddy that I won’t leave him. I’ll fix it. Papa and I will fix it.”

She sounded so sure. It made Buffy smile, and she opened her arms up, watching as Joni stepped quickly inside. She closed the embrace once more, as her child’s arms wrapped tightly around her Daddy’s legs, holding on for dear life, “Out of the mouths of babes,” she murmured, and laughed when she heard the response, muffled though it was, as her face was pressed against her Daddy’s calves.

“I’m not a baby!”

DECEMBER 23, 2027- 3:00 AM NEW ENGLAND-

It had been hours, and he wasn’t even certain the witch could do it, but he was desperate. Oscar did not know if he would survive if the bond were completely severed, and so he had begged with her, pleaded, if the amulet was broken, and there was no other way to keep him…

William had protested. There was still so much fire in him, to the last.

But, he could not deny her. And now…

Had he spoken? It was barely a whisper, but…He looked at Elisabeth. It seemed she hadn’t heard it, but the name sounded heavy in his ears. Would William waste precious breath to speak a name that was not important to him?

Oscar found himself pulled away from the window, and drifting to the bedside once more, by the power that name seemed to hold.

The movement jarred her away from the solace the snow gave her, and made her focus on the reality she did not want to face, “What is it?” Buffy asked, as she watched Oscar move to the head of the bed and watched a strange sort of pall fall upon him. He looked as though he might be sick to his stomach. She looked at Spike, and she felt sick too, looking at what she’d done to him.

She saw no change. But then, that wasn’t good news. It wasn’t anything. He was still…slipping away, becoming the corpse she never saw him as, despite what she’d tried to tell herself, and everyone around her, years ago.

She could see it, and she smelled the decay in the room. Yes. He was a corpse.

The question was, why now? Was this her fault?

He hadn’t eaten in weeks, even the sight of blood made him physically ill, violently so, and no one could understand why. Dawn, and the blue Amazon that Spike had met during his year at Wolfram and Hart, was working day and night to find an answer. Even Giles was doing what he could to help, and that surprised her, though it shouldn’t have.

They’d made their peace and forgiven each other. The years of watching how Spike raised, and loved, Joni, had finally overcome the rancor and prejudice that Angel had placed in his mind and heart.

It was that way with all her friends. They seemed to be almost bending over backwards to apologize and make things right. She just hoped it wasn’t already too late.

Dawn said what was happening to Spike now had something to do with the amulet he’d worn when the Hellmouth in Sunnydale was destroyed. The amulet she’d given to him. The amulet she’d just destroyed, because she had been caught up in Joni’s hope.

Yes, Joni had hope. She had a great deal of that, and that was good. But, she was a child; she was supposed to have an unlimited supply of that.

But, Buffy knew better. She was her mother. She was supposed to be the grown up.

* I was so stupid! *

* This is my fault. *

He was paying for what she’d done. His voice rang in her head. Was it only a few days ago…? * “It had to be paid for, Buffy. The magic…the spell that freed you, let you be a girl, and Jonina’s mum, it had to be paid for. If this is the price, then I’ll pay it. No regrets.” *

Even though they’d been married for years, and he’d changed more than she thought was possible, she still marveled at him and at how much he loved her.

Oscar was looking at her with wild, anxious eyes. What little color there was in his face was draining quickly away. That sight was enough to make her come closer to the bed.

Closer, so that she could see, in vivid detail, what she had done to him, “What?” she asked in a whisper. She did not want to see him like this, so fragile, “What’s wrong?”

“Is there someone…someone important to him, by the name of ‘Joyce’?”

“That’s my mother’s name,” Buffy said softly, her eyes downcast. She did not want to trust a stranger, vampire or not, Spike’s last hope or not, with this information, but she had to, “She died. Years ago.”

Oscar’s breath shuddered, “I see.” He felt a wave of guilt come over him; he had never experienced something this strong before. He hated to cause her more pain. The loss of her mother had obviously left a great hole within her, a wound that William had tried to mend, but could not, “Did he…?” the question caused him distress, but it had to be asked.

“No!” Elizabeth breathed, her green eyes flashing like absinthe as she faced him, “And, if you believe that, you can leave my house. Now! I’ll have Willow lock the door behind you.”

“No, Elisabeth,” Oscar could feel his voice failing him. The bond was tearing, and he couldn’t stop it, the idea of being left alone again… “Please don’t,” he begged, “Buffy, please…”

The shimmer of hate in her eyes suddenly became a darkened pool of hope, and her eyes reached into his, as though she would pull the very essence of his being from him, and make it something new. Something that was truly hers, “Buffy?” she asked, her voice trembling, “Are you telling me that the spell worked? Is he with you, really?”

Oscar nodded, “I think so,” he said, tapping his temple with his index finger, “He’s here. And, he loves you very much.”

Her eyes fell onto the still form, the shell, which lay on the bed. No wonder the smell of decay had been so strong.

He wasn’t there anymore. It was empty.

“Is it…?” Buffy whispered in disbelief, “…What happens now?” she asked him.

“Why don’t we ask Angelus?” Oscar said, his voice a low and deadly, and eerily familiar purr; so familiar, that Buffy had to remind herself of what Willow had told her. That this was only temporary, until they could find the amulet.

The amulet she had destroyed.
**********************************************************************************

DECEMBER 22, 2005- LOS ANGELES-

Joni looked up at her parents and smiled, “It’s okay, Daddy, all we have to do is find the angel. I remember now. And Mommy should too! It should be easy to find Rabbit, once we find the angel because he knows where Rabbit is hiding,” she said, while tugging impatiently at her father’s pant leg, “You remember how to play hide and seek, don’t you, Daddy?”

Spike closed his eyes a little tighter, and pulled Buffy to him, holding her still tighter. He wanted to keep them close, take them in so that they were a part of him. If he could, he would swallow Joni’s playful, hopeful little voice, take every word and keep it with him so that he would have a part of her when he forgot her face, and who she was to him, forgot everything but the beast.

Because, he knew that soon, he would forget.

But, that time was not now, so he pulled away from Buffy, turned and looked down at her hopeful face. He smiled at her, and grumbled playfully, “Now, just what are you going on about, Slayer?”

“My name is Joni,” she pouted, “Don’t be silly, Daddy.”

The pout, and the way she tilted her head, made Spike smile even more as he knelt. She’s definitely a Summers, “Right. Joni. What were you saying?”

“Hide and seek, Daddy. It’s easy. Mommy remembers, I know she does,” Joni looked at her mother, who had turned to face her, and was kneeling beside Spike.

“I do?” Buffy asked.

“Yep,” Joni nodded, “Remember, the angel helped with the calendar? And the angel made the monster fight, and go out? We need to do that again. We need to find Spike Rabbit.”

Buffy shook her head in confusion, “Honey,” she sighed, “we’ll find your toy. But, right now…”

Joni huffed again, and stomped her foot, “No, Mommy, I’m not playing! We need to find Spike!”

“But, Baby, we can’t…” Buffy started, trying to calm, and understand, her frustrated child.

“Spike Rabbit’s not here, where is he?” Joni asked.

Spike could see that both the people he loved were distressed, and he would not have that. There was just too much to lose here; so much he did not want to lose. If Joni thought she knew a way out, if she thought there was a chance, he was going to take it. He didn’t care how small it was, or who and where it came from, to keep his family, he would take the chance.

“Dove,” he said softly, looking into her eyes, “This is no time for play…”

“I’m not playing,” Joni insisted, her voice sure, her eyes steady on her father’s face.

“This is important,” Spike said.

“I know that,” Joni whispered. She felt like crying. She didn’t know how she knew, but she did. She knew that, if she didn’t get this right, her Papa would be lost, and her baby sister would never get here. She looked at her mother again and said, “Mommy, please…why are these things in my head?” she asked, touching her forehead as if it hurt, and wincing a little.

“What things, Sweetheart?”

“Things you did, Mommy. Don’t you remember?”

“Things I did…?”

Spike could see that Jonina was on the verge of tears, and try as he might, he could not remember why he was so angry, suddenly.

There was this sudden hatred, mixed with hope and despair, for a witch he did not know, and could not remember.

“…I know!” Buffy exclaimed, “ I do know!” she jumped up, excitedly, and ran toward the telephone, “We have to find Willow!”

June 28, 2030- Los Angeles-

Oscar blinked, and swallowed hard. She had never said these things to him before, and they hurt, “So that’s it then?” he said, truly not believing; not wanting to believe, “You think I’m mad, out of my mind? All this time…you’ve…? But you… I remember. That night…what you said…How could you…? I cried with you,” he lowered his eyes as he remembered the torment that William had experienced. He cleared his throat and looked up at her again. There had been enough tears for two lifetimes, there would be no more, “He knew it was wrong, Elisabeth. Near the end, he knew it, on a basic level, he knew. And still…He was almost consumed by fear. Did you know that? And yet, he couldn’t deny you, Elisabeth. Why are you denying him?”

December 21, 2027- New England- 11:00 p.m.-

He came up from the cellar, trying to block out his ramblings, and the smell of impending death that hung in the air here and briefly, he thought about the old saying, the one about glass houses, and people in them. He had never seen a house with so many windows. They were almost floor to ceiling in the common areas of the small house.

That only served to prove to him just who the creature they kept bound in chains- as though he would attack- was.

No vampire he knew of would dare to live in a house like this.

He smiled to himself as he watched her, looking out at the snow that fell so beautifully and silently here. He understood why the windows were here. The winter could be exquisite, with its harsh contrasts and stark relief. It could be both stunning and deadly.

He remembered. And, he understood why he could possibly love the Slayer.

She was so much like him. He’d have to be blind not to see how much she loved him.

*No vampire, that is, except one that was, and I hope still is, the boy who took care of Mary. *

Oscar knew it wouldn’t be long now. He had perhaps hours now, maybe less. He reached out to him wordlessly, using the serenity of the snowfall as a way to focus, bring his own thoughts under control. He reached out, and found confusion and sorrow.

No, it wouldn’t be long now. He was sinking. Drowning.

Soon, it would be over. “I’m sorry,” he said softly as he came up to stand beside her. He didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to feel the loss. But… “I’m afraid that all we can do now is make him comfortable,” his breath shuddered as the fear and confusion William was feeling began to overwhelm him. He was desperate to grasp at anything, anything familiar, “Let him know…” Oscar breathed, trying to keep William’s fear and panic from his own voice. She already had enough to deal with, holding herself up in the face of her, and her daughter’s, grief. “Let him know you love him. He needs it, now. It won’t be long now.”

She turned on him then, with eyes that were so full of pain, so like his Mary’s had been, that he felt dizzy seeing them, “No,” she whispered, “He’s not gone yet. Don’t you dare say that! Did you ask him?” she begged.

“Elisabeth, if there were some way…if I could make it not be so, I would. But, I’m not sure I can help. I’m not sure there is enough of your husband left to understand what it is that you are asking of him. What he does know, the only thing he knows is that he loves you. And, he needs to know that you love him.”

“I do,” she whispered, her eyes watery.

“Then tell him that,” Oscar said, “But, I am sorry. I cannot do what you want me to do. It’s just too much.”

“You have to,” Buffy pleaded, “Maybe Willow could…”

Oscar narrowed his eyes, studying her. She was so small, and vulnerable. So much like Mary. He knew that, if she could have, his Mary would have done anything in her power to bring Diana, and him, her husband, back to her.

If only she could.

Oscar felt his chest ache a little with longing. He longed for his wife and daughter, to tell them he loved them still, and that he was sorry.

He couldn’t do that. But, he could do this, for William.

He looked at her, and with a voice filled with quiet hope, and not a little fear, he said, “I know why William loves you so much,” he nodded to himself. They were family now, “Anything you need. What do you need, Elisabeth?”

Buffy had to turn away. She just couldn’t look at him anymore, at those eyes. Those eyes that looked so much like his. He looked so lost. “I wanted to believe,” she said, “I really did. And, Joni needed someone…I needed someone who knew him. I wanted to believe,” she said again, her voice wavering and her knees trembling as she turned to face him.

She used the kitchen sink as a brace to hold herself up. She couldn’t help the tight feeling in her chest. There was something about the way he looked at her, something about his eyes…Maybe…? Maybe Willow had been right, and he could be…

No. That was gone. It was gone, and it had been too long. She let go of the sink, hoping she could stand on her own because she was tired, so tired of this, and looked down at her hands, hands that were shaking as they held the dishcloth, and realized as she closed the rag tightly in a painful fist, that she was looking at the same hands that had once held Spike’s hope, his one chance at finding peace, and being whole again and had smashed it.

No. He was gone. And now, her daughter was missing. She was missing because she couldn’t accept it.

Buffy swallowed the lump in her throat. She wanted it to go away, but she knew it wouldn’t, not now. It would be like glass in her stomach. It would always hurt. But, she had to accept it.

They were gone, because of her.

The words clawed their way out, tearing her to ribbons as they came, and she hated the tears, and the weakness she was showing. He would not have wanted that.

That was what started this. She’d been weak; but she was going to be strong. She was ready, finally, to be strong. “No,” she said, “I have to accept this. He’s gone because of me. And now, so is Joni. And I have to accept that.”

“No,” Oscar’s voice was low, almost too low to be heard. He couldn’t let this happen. The only sounds in the room were the sound of her breathing, a sound he had promised to keep steady well into her twilight years, a sound he had promised to keep for him, and the sound of the steadily rustling paper that he held in his trembling hand. “No,” he said again, “I won’t let you give up,” he held the papers out to her, hoping she would see, “There is no proof she is dead, and he may not be. The magic that Wolfram and Hart used to enchant that amulet…it’s unlike any I’ve seen, and I’ve been around a long time. Longer than…”

“Spike?” Buffy finished for him.

Oscar closed his eyes, drew in a breath, and sighed, “Yes, longer than Spike,” his shoulders slumped, feeling defeated, he continued, his own loss heavy in his voice, “and I know what it is to lose a child. I know that pain, and I knew his. For you to deny that now, when I can prove to you that there is a way…that it’s not over…” he shook his head. He was tired, dismayed.

She’s done this to me, and now she’s backing out? Running away?

“…I just want to do what he wanted, finally,” Buffy interrupted him, “I just…”

“You told me what happened to him at Wolfram and Hart. You told me that you wondered if you could ever make it right,” Oscar’s voice was tight, skirting the line between anger and hurt, “And now you can, and you’re giving up?”

Buffy passed her hand over her eyes. She didn’t want to see his eyes now, they were so hopeful. “I didn’t…” she sighed.

“…He’s still there. I can feel it. And he’s tied to you…to Joni, and the amulet.”

“You mean the one that I smashed?!” Buffy felt her chest tighten as she shouted the words. They were like a weapon, and they hit their mark. She was a Slayer, after all. She knew how to make him stop.

But he didn’t stop. “Yes, you smashed it,” Oscar said, “and that released the part of Spike’s essence that had been trapped inside it. But, where did that go? Willow and I have been tracking energies ever since Jonina went missing, and we have a few theories. We think that….”

Buffy couldn’t help but taste bile in her mouth at the sound of her name, “Willow,” she spat, “What does Willow have to say?”
******************************************************************************

DECEMBER 22, 2005- LOS ANGELES-

She was talking so fast that Willow was beginning to get a headache, “Buffy, slow down…Yes, I remember…Yeah, that demon that Giles and Ethan Rayne summoned, what about it?”

Willow listened, and felt the blood drain from her face.

This was crazy.

Willow felt her mouth go dry. The words were sticking in her head, and in her mouth like cement, “You want me to do what, Buffy?” she listened again, “Why do you need a locator spell? Spike’s right there…isn’t he?”

She listened more, and nodded, “I’m coming over Buffy,” she said as she hung up the telephone and headed out the door.

I’m coming over to see if I can talk you *out* of this!

DECEMBER 22, 2027-NEW ENGLAND-

“How could he possibly be this fast? He’s sick, and he just left Willow…Are you sure he went this way?”

Oscar was at least thirty feet ahead of her and gaining ground by the second, when he growled back impatiently, and she could see the amber glow of his eyes sparking in the winter night, “He’s my family, I’m sure! And, he’s a vampire; of course he’s fast! You, of all people, should know that!”

“I do! It’s just…when I’m sick, I can’t fight my way out of a wet paper bag!” she huffed as she followed Oscar making the familiar left turn onto Myrrh Road. This was good. * At least he’s headed home. *

Seeing her home in front of her, she gained speed, quickly outrunning Oscar. Buffy burst through the back door, ready to face whatever she had to. * If I’m too late… If he’s… *“Oh, thank God!” she whispered, “When Willow told me…”

Her heart was pounding when she found him, and she wondered if he could hear it. His back was to her as he sat at the kitchen table, his shoulders slumped in the loose robe Joni had given him for Christmas last year, with its stripes of orange, yellow and blue- so much like the rainbow he’d painted on the wall of the room she’d had in Los Angeles- the room she had barely seen- intent on what was spread out in front on him.

The robe was just a way for him to feel close to her, the way he had been when she was small. They hadn’t been close in the last three weeks, and he needed the familiar now, just as he had then. But, Joni stayed away. Out of fear, she supposed.

She knew why Joni stayed away. Joni didn’t want to face the possibility of losing him. So, if she didn’t acknowledge it, her fear, it couldn’t exist. It wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

Buffy understood that.

“Spike, you scared me,” Buffy whispered, edging closer to him and feeling Oscar’s presence too, flanking her, ready to protect her if he needed to, “You can still put me to shame, you know that?” she teased, “Can outrun me any night of the week. Which only goes to show how badly out of shape I am,” she tried to hide her fear under something familiar, “But, you should be in bed. Come on, I’ll help you…”

Spike said nothing, his head bowed as though he were praying. He did that now, sometimes, when things made no sense to him.

She looked at Oscar, who seemed just as shocked and relieved as she was, to see him sitting there. He was as lost as she was, and it showed on his face.

Oscar was right. She knew he didn’t have long now. He was thin. He hadn’t eaten in weeks, not since before he’d awakened-when she smashed that amulet. And, the fever was back. That had sapped his strength even more. Just how Spike had managed to drag himself out of bed, let alone run a ten-second mile, was beyond her understanding.

Buffy heard the rustle of paper and caught sight of the thin line of smoke as it traveled to the ceiling. She held her breath and hoped he knew she was there.

“Spike…?”

“Can’t let her see…” his voice was strained and rasping, distracted, “I have to burn…like I should have, years ago.”

Buffy shot Oscar a worried look. “Hallucinations?” he hissed, questioning her.

She shook her head. No. This was worse.

“Burn what, Spike?” Buffy asked, her voice quiet with hurt and fear.

“Me,” he said simply, “I’m gone anyway. Not what I was. Not…”

Buffy got close enough to the table to see what he was burning, and she nearly choked on her tears at the sight.

His journals. The one thing that had helped put his mind back together after Joni was kidnapped and he spent years in that Hell. He was burning them.

Buffy stood beside him now, quiet and careful not to startle him. She looked at the bits of paper, blackened at the edges as the fire consumed them and left nothing but ashes.

She had to blink away the tears. * His life- reduced to ashes. God, he’s so much more than that. *

“I know a few things about you, Spike. Remember, I was with you that day, on the Hellmouth?” Buffy asked him gently, lingering near him, touching his shoulder lightly, “I know what you are, Spike. You are a husband. You are a father. You’re a fighter, and you’re one Hell of a friend.”
****************************************************************************

DECEMBER 22, 2005- LOS ANGELES-

Oscar remembered that day, and hoped that he could be as good a keeper, as good a friend to him and his Buffy as he had been to him, and Mary.

It wouldn’t be long now. Oscar could sense the dawn coming, even in the darkness of the old building.

He had to be certain his fledgling could do without him; be on his own, and teach her, assure her that this was a good thing, something that would keep the Slayers strong forever.

Oscar crouched in front of the weeping vampire, and that was an image he never thought he’d see, not from Angel, surely. But then, it was poetic justice, to see that.

He picked up the toy bunny, and gave it to Angel, “You understand now, don’t you, Angel?” Oscar asked, “Why it had to be this way?”

Angel nodded, unable to speak.

“Good. You know how this works. It’s not like this is new to you. Tomorrow night,” Oscar said, “promise me, you’ll go to them. You’ll tell her, make her see. This is good,” he nodded, his blue eyes twinkling in the dark, “Change is good.”

Angel nodded, finding the familiar in a different form, “I promise,” he said, “I’ll do it. For her, and for you, Spike.”

Oscar smiled, “Good,” he said, sighing. The dawn was coming, and he knew he was headed toward the light. He stood, and gave Angel a wink, before turning and walking out of the protecting darkness, into the winter morning, “I have to go,” he said, softly, with a touch of both longing and laughter in his voice, “Don’t want to be late. I’ve got a date-- with a beautiful little girl. My legacy. My little girl. It’s the circle of life you know.”

As the sun rose, Angel’s heart ached. But, he knew that he’d been right. Things died, and things lived. That was the way the world worked.

And, tomorrow night, he would tell them. He would make them understand.
***************************************************************

Willow looked at the map of Los Angeles that lay on the floor, and blinked.

He wasn’t there. She’d searched for every kind of demon she could think of, and in every dimension, but no matter what she tried, she couldn’t find him.

She looked up at Buffy, “I’m sorry, Buffy,” she whispered, “Spike is right,” Willow hated to see the hate and loss settle in his eyes; she’d seen it once before, the night she’d resurrected Buffy. Oh, he hated her then, and he did now, “Whatever ‘soul” Spike may have had, is gone now.”

Suddenly, Buffy heard nothing. Nothing except the soft cry of a little girl and the father she had lost.

*************************************************************************
There was silence, and Willow suddenly noticed how small the place really was, and how good Spike’s hearing was. She looked over at the two of them, and although Spike was doing what he could to distract Joni, and it was something she would never forget- seeing him play peek-a-boo, morphing in and out of his demon face- she could tell by the way he moved, slowly and deliberately, that he could hear, and very possibly understand, every word that was being said.

Buffy wasn’t saying anything, and Willow didn’t blame her. It was a big thing to take in, and if she hadn’t seen it for herself and confirmed it by asking Buffy what she remembered about that day, and what Angel had said the amulet would do, she would have had a hard time believing that it could happen, too.

What Buffy had said just proved Giles’s theory. Willow shook her head and smiled a crooked smile at the irony of Angel being the catalyst for this.

Without the amulet, and those purifying, “scrubbing bubbles,” this might never have happened.

It had to be true because she could still feel the cold shiver running down her spine, from the look in the old man’s eye. She’d seen it before. Spike never looked at her the same after she brought Buffy back from the dead. He knew that she’d taken the Slayer from her reward, and as much as he loved Buffy and wanted to be near her, he hated her even more for taking that from her.

She would never forget that look, or forgive herself for putting that kind of hate in his heart.

Yes, the old man, Homer, was something made of magic, but that didn’t mean it was a lie. There was something true in him, something pure.

There was only one thing, that Willow knew of, that could put that much hate in an otherwise kindly old man’s soul. And, that is what “Homer” was, she had no doubt now, he was the manifestation of a vampire’s soul; of Spike’s soul.

Could he have been pulled from Heaven? It was the only thing that made any sense.

Willow nodded. He made it. He did. He’s the “Energizer Bunny,” of course he made it! No wonder Angel didn’t want the fact that vampires have souls to be common knowledge! That would mean that he would be accountable- for everything he ever did!

Of course he made it. But there was still Buffy, and her grief. It was still a theory, a fairytale, unless Buffy believed.

And, Willow could tell…that she didn’t.

“I can’t let this happen, Willow. I just can’t,” Buffy said.

Willow held her breath and hoped. This time she wasn’t going to let grief sway her. This was something bigger than that, and it could be wonderful, if Buffy would only believe.

She knew what could happen now, the lives she could destroy, and so did Buffy. That wasn’t going to happen again.

There was no way to know what had happened to Spike, not after what she’d seen on the Hellmouth. After that, she knew that anything was possible. After all, they were connected, now more than ever.

If she could just convince Buffy…but that was going to be hard to do. Buffy loved him. And, even though Buffy had seen the change he’d made, she knew he’d struggled with it.

After all, he was a vampire, and sometimes there were things that even love couldn’t change.

Still…if this had been Tara…

“Buffy,” she tried again, speaking slowly, “did you hear me? What Spike is, I can’t find it in any demon dimension. But, that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t still exist, somehow. Giles thinks, and Stephen Riley, he seems to think that that’s why Angel came to Sunnydale, and why he hasn’t said much about it, about what happened that day, since he…”

The words meant nothing, they buzzed in her ear until they weren’t words anymore, just noise that she couldn’t understand. “The demon is gone, Buffy. It’s not here. It’s not in any plane, any dimension, that I know of, and I’ve checked every one that I know exists. Every one I dare, and some that I don’t. And, it’s…He’s nowhere, Buffy. Gone.” There was no way she could have done this to him. Not now…not after everything…and yet, she had.

She’d torn it apart. His world and his existence, she’d torn it apart. Torn him apart, and he’d let her.

But, why?

The answer was simple, and staring her in the face.

Buffy looked at Spike and Joni. He was trying so hard to hide it, but she wasn’t blind. His eyes were full of terror and loss, and hurt. Joni’s weren’t much better, in fact, they were worse. Joni was smart. She understood what was going on around her. Her daughter’s eyes were not only filled with the same pain she saw in Spike’s eyes, but there was betrayal there as well, the same betrayal she had felt in her own heart when her father left.

Joni’s “Papa” was gone, and her Mommy had taken him away. The look in her little girl’s eyes hurt her more than she had words for. She would do whatever she had to do take the knife from her heart.

Maybe she could keep it from her. Keep her sweet and untouched by the darkness just a little longer. Maybe she could keep her in the bubble a little longer.

It was a fleeting thought, one that was burst by a swell of little-girl rage.

“Papa said he wouldn’t leave!” Joni was angry, her eyes were blazing and her voice held a hurt bigger than her eight years. She climbed out of her Daddy’s embrace and walked up to her Mommy. Looking up at her with moist eyes, and a confident voice, a voice that held all her love within it, she asked, “Mommy, Papa said he wouldn’t leave. Why did he lie, Mommy?”

Her breath caught at that, and her gaze found Spike. There was so much hurt and loneliness there, in his eyes. So much that she couldn’t take it all in, and she had to look away, but Joni seemed so lost, in a different way. She was too small.

Too small to understand whom she was, and what she could be.

Too small to know that she was a Slayer.

“Oh, Joni,” Buffy whispered, “Papa didn’t lie.”

“But…” Joni interrupted.

Suddenly, Buffy began to panic, and she wasn’t sure if she was more panicked for herself or Spike. All she was sure of was the need to reassure her, to tell Joni that everything would be all right, because she needed to believe it too. She didn’t want to believe Willow. He wasn’t gone. She wasn’t going to lose him, not after all they had been through together, “ I’m sure he didn’t want to leave you. Not if he could help it,” she told her.

“Is it my fault?” Jonina asked, her voice a soft, horrible aching squeak, “Did he leave because of me? Did I hurt him? Did I do something bad?” there were no tears, just the awful desire to know the truth.

No, Buffy thought, it’s not your fault. It’s mine. I did this.

“No, Sweetheart,” Buffy said earnestly, “You’re a good girl. You can’t be anything bad. Ever. This isn’t your fault.”

The mother in her felt her heart break within her as Joni asked the question she wished she had the power to answer, and the strength to ask, herself. It was something she needed to know, “He glowed for you, Mommy,” Joni said, “For us. Where did he go, Mommy?”

Buffy felt her stomach sink. The room was spinning, and it was all she could do to keep Jonina’s face in focus. Her little face became a splotch of peach and purple. It was pretty. Like a sunset, and the purple flew away on the wings of a bird.

There’s something about that…what is it…?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hoping that, when she opened her eyes again the room would not be spinning.

She opened her eyes. The room had stopped spinning, but her little girl was still looking up at her. Still trusting her, and waiting for an answer.

“I don’t know, Sweetheart,” she admitted quietly, “But, I’ll find out. I promise.”

DECEMBER 2, 2027-NEW ENGLAND-

Buffy hadn’t run this fast in years, but tonight…tonight it didn’t seem fast enough. Had Georgie really said what she thought she had? Was he really awake? Was it really over?

New Hope Cemetery was on Third Street, and that was five and a half blocks from Myrrh Road. She and Joni had walked the distance many times. Buffy could do it in her sleep, it wasn’t more than a ten-minute walk, and at a run it was less than three.

But tonight it seemed like a hundred-mile trek. She couldn’t get there fast enough.

She rushed through the door, and noticed Georgie sitting at the kitchen table, her head bowed. Xander sat across from her and looked up at her when she came through the door. His face was pale and grim, “Buffy,” he said gruffly, “you’d better get in there. He’s…” He wasn’t looking at her now, and there was something strange about his voice.

If she didn’t know him better, Buffy would almost say that Xander was relieved.

*Oh, God! How could I have forgotten? That spell…something about last words or last rites. If Xander hadn’t… Oh, thank you, Xander!*

She eyed him carefully. He was so still and quiet. Too quiet. Maybe the spell had more of an effect on him than he had let on, “Xander,” Buffy whispered, “what is it?”

He didn’t answer, just sat there, looking down. She could see that he was struggling to keep hold of his emotions. Xander had grown to respect Spike. It had taken some time, but now, they were almost what would be called friends, to see him like this, it was frightening, “Xander…?” was all she could manage to say.

“Buffy,” he whispered, “just go.”

There was something in the way he said the words that struck her, and she gulped for breath, because somehow, she knew she was going to need it, and went to the small room down the hall.

She closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer into the air, “Spike,” she spoke the thought wordlessly, willing him to answer.

And he did. She could hear his words, in the same way someone can hear the hum of a tuning fork when it is pressed against the skin. There were no words spoken, his body had been through too much for that, but she did hear him.

His voice, and his precious words strummed through her body, willing her to push open the door, “Oh, Buffy,” the warmth made her skin vibrate, it pulled at her, “let me see you. I need to see you. Please?”
*****************************************************************************************

Buffy remembered her time in Heaven, before Willow pulled her out, and how she felt loved and warm.

She had touched him. That day, on the Hellmouth, he looked so warm, so much like Heaven, that she had to touch him.

She touched him. She’d destroyed him.

“Willow,” Buffy asked in a hushed voice, “Spike is a demon. A vampire. If he was…where I was…how would he survive?”

“I…” Willow started, stopping when she noticed Spike coming up behind Buffy.

“I can tell you, Buffy. That I do remember, very well,” his voice was heavy with painful experience and memory so sharp that Buffy felt herself turning to see him, to be sure he hadn’t stepped into the sunlight and let himself burn, as he had one time before, just to be rid of the pain that was eating at his soul, “Without you, and Joni,” he said, “that place was Hell.”

DECEMBER 2, 2027- NEW ENGLAND-

Buffy walked into the little room that she used to share with him not knowing what to expect. Georgie had said that he woke up, and recognized everyone. A part of her wanted everything to be like it was before, and her heart clenched just thinking it. A part of her wanted this never to have happened, wanted Spike to be well again; didn’t want to see the chains that kept him confined to the bed, the ones she had put around his wrists and ankles herself, to keep him from hurting himself, or Joni.

A part of her wanted that so much that she was willing to sacrifice anything to get it. Even Joni.
************************************************************************

“Daddy…?” Joni’s voice was loud and tremulous in the quiet room, and suddenly Buffy hated the look of comprehension beyond her years, the look of the Slayer, in her daughter’s eyes. And, she sure as hell didn’t want Spike to see it, not after all he’d been through. But, he turned toward her, and Joni tilted her chin up, looked her Daddy in the eye, and said, “I’m wrong. I shouldn’t be here. Send me back.”

For an instant, Buffy felt dizzy. She was hearing horrible things coming out of her child’s mouth, and she knew where they were coming from because she recognized the feelings. They had come from her own heart.

Hate, beyond words, and disgust, and pain, all of that had been directed at him, as though Spike were responsible for pulling her from the love she had felt.

It wasn’t true, but that didn’t keep the Slayer in her from reminding him, at every opportunity, just where she was, and just how far beneath her he really was and that, no matter how he tried, how good he was, how many times he saved the world and her, he would never be with her; never really belong.

The words seemed to crash to the floor, and she could see Spike step back slightly to center himself, as though Joni had leapt up and struck him in the chin with a tiny fist. Like Mother, like daughter. He’d been rocked, set back on his heels, but he wasn’t going down.

Buffy smiled. That’s * my * husband…Definitely * not * one to be messed with. Knock him down, he just smiles, laughs and tells you what you don’t want to hear.

He knelt, probably to make her more comfortable, look her in the eye, and said, in a soft, stern voice, “Joni, I am not sending you back to that place. You’re here, and you’re safe. I don’t know what I’d do if…” he shook his head, “No. This isn’t your fault.”

“But, Daddy that’s not true! I made Papa come here, where he didn’t belong, and now he’s gone. I did that! I know Papa didn’t want to come, but he did it anyway…for me,” Buffy could see her little lip starting to quiver, her brown eyes searching his face for the right answer, the way to make it better; Buffy understood that need. Her friends had nearly killed her with it. “I know you need him, Daddy,” Joni was saying, “need Papa, and he’s gone. Maybe, if I went away…you and Mommy could…Maybe Papa would come back if I wasn’t…”

Seeing Spike with Joni like this, Buffy was reminded of another time. A time when she had wanted to disappear, when she thought she didn’t belong anywhere.

“…There’s only one thing I’ve ever been sure of. You’re the one, Buffy.”

Still, after so many years…it was still about love.

“…Dove,” Spike was still speaking to her, soft and low, and Buffy could barely see him through the tears in her eyes, “ this place is hard, that is true. And, ‘Papa’ made it easier for me…for us. But you, you let me remember…” his voice seemed to catch on painful memories; memories he would not share with Joni, or her, “You help me breathe, Dove. And that’s something I need, even if I do forget you for a while,” his voice dropped into a soft chuckle, one that Buffy was very familiar with, “which would never happen, Dove. I need that, and I need you with me. Always.”

Hearing him say that, and knowing that the loss of Joni was probably the least of the pains that that place brought him, she wondered how he was here, why he wasn’t growling and clawing, like Angel had been when he came back from where she had sent him. She remembered that day, and what she had done.

She gasped, her eyes trapped by the point where they had touched. There was no avoiding this. She’d dragged him up to where the rest of her tattered soul was. She’d pulled him up to Heaven. Heaven. A place where he wouldn’t survive. A place she’d barely survived.

Oh, God…

She’d destroyed him, put him through Hell, and now the one thing that had kept him sane was gone.


“I’m sorry, Spike,” Buffy whispered. Spike stiffened slightly, as though he had just remembered that she was in the room.

Buffy could feel her chest aching with the awfulness of what had happened to him. The images that ran through her mind, the years of loneliness…He had to know how sorry she was for putting him through that.

But, not with Joni in the room. “Honey,” she said, “could you show Aunt Willow your room? Maybe tell her about Spike Rabbit?”

Joni looked between her parents, uncertainly; clearly not sure she should go with a person she did not know. And judging by the way Spike’s body language was shouting out mistrust, even hatred, at the mention of Willow’s name, it was no wonder Joni was confused, “But…” she stuttered.

“It’s all right,” Spike assured her, giving Joni a little hug, “You can go. There are toys in your room that I’ve never seen!” his tone was light, but everything else about him was not, “I’m sure Willow would love to see…all those things.”

“I sure would!” Willow chimed in, perhaps a bit too cheerfully; maybe she was wary of Spike. And, right now, Buffy knew she had good reason to be.

Willow took Joni by the hand and they went up the stairs.

Now they were alone, and Buffy couldn’t find the words. There just weren’t enough. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have…” she started.

“Don’t say it!” he spit out, turning to face her, and Buffy’s heart screamed just a little louder, the sound was deafening, but nothing could keep her from hearing him. His voice, it sounded so loud that it tore the softness of her sorrow and penance, leaving only hate behind. She had never heard that much hate in his voice, not directed at her, not even when they were mortal enemies.

“I’m his scream, Elisabeth…” And now, even that is gone. I watched it die, just like that day…I did nothing…I left him alone.

Does he hate me that much?

Then something about his voice changed, and she could hear the loneliness in it. It was something she recognized, because her heart had been through it too. She had been pulled from that place. She remembered, could even hear the echo as he spoke, “Don’t you dare take that from me, Slayer. I held on to that, to you. You can’t take it from me…”

“I didn’t mean…” Buffy said quickly, desperate to soothe the emptiness she heard in his voice. She sighed, knowing that there was nothing she could do. It was done, but that did not mean she wouldn’t live the rest of her life regretting what she didn’t do that day.

She tried to pull her mind away from him and think about something else, anything else, but she couldn’t do it.

There was no escaping what she’d done, “I shouldn’t have left you there, Spike,” she said.

His eyes burned with a fiery certainty as he nodded, his voice was strong, “Yes, you should have. I had to save you. The only way I knew…I had to stay…beat them back. You had to live, you and Joni…and now…I failed.”

“No, you haven’t! Spike, you beat the monsters. You’re here. It’s my turn to help you, to save you from your monsters, the things I didn’t before,” she slowly took the leap, came closer to him. Would he let her hold him like before? Would he let her words be true? Would he let her say it, give him her words and her heart?

Would he let her love him?

Her arms went around him, and his defenses fell. He shook, and wept, in her arms.

So very, very brave, he was, this man in her arms. Her husband. Her life. Her Spike. “We’ll figure it out. We will,” she told him.

And, she meant it, with all her heart.

22, December 1879- LONDON-

It was Christmastime again. He couldn’t take the boxes, or the ribbons, or the snow. Not again, he couldn’t lose her again. Not one more year, one more night.

It hurt too much. Mary would be fine. William would care for her, and love her. She would be fine.

She would be fine, and tomorrow morning, he would meet the sun and beg the angels to let him into the gates of Heaven to be with her, his little rabbit, his beloved Diana.
******************************************************************

December 22, 2005- LOS ANGELES-

The anger rose up in him. She didn’t see him, thought he was beneath her, took his heart and tore it from him. She didn’t want his heart, and so he tore at the token he’d meant to give her, his useless scribbling, as he walked through the night, desperate and alone.

He was tired, so tired of being pushed aside. He would show those vulgarians that he would not be made a fool of, would not be a laughingstock, “Watch where you’re going!” he growled.

He was not crying. He was not. He would show them. He would show them all. If they wanted “William the Bloody,” that’s exactly who they would get.

He wasn’t going to lose…ever again.

Sundown. One more day, he had one more day, and he wasn’t sure he could do it.

But, he had to. He had to. He had to get this right, this time.

Angel wasn’t sure what hurt more, the past, present, or the future. It was all a jumble now. So much so that it was hard to remember where he was. That was fine, he didn’t want to remember; didn’t want to remember the look in her eyes.

He didn’t want to see the hate.

The grief was evident in the air, even without the enhanced senses he used to enjoy, he could smell it, feel it smother them both in the same way a blanket can douse a fire.

They were dead. Something was gone.

Spike was gone.

“I swear,” he said softly, to no one, his eyes downcast, he just couldn’t bear to look at them, not when he… “If there is anything I can do for you, Buffy, or you too, Joni. Both of you, all you have to do is let me know.”

“What can you do?” Jonina’s voice was like a hot knife in his gut. It had as much fire as her Daddy’s did when they had fought. But somehow this was worse, a controlled burn.

It was hard to keep from laughing when he saw the lighter, and the little metal- sounding whoosh that told him she was more than willing to use it.

And then the flame, and her mother’s voice, “Joni…”

Her eyes flashed, and it was then that he noticed. * She looks so much like him. *

He couldn’t help it. Before he could take control of it, his mouth was turning upward, ever so slightly, in a sad little smirk.

He shouldn’t have even been there, and he almost wished that Jonina had followed through on her threat to set him on fire, it would have been right; she looked so much like him at that moment, her eyes blazing with a private pain, a pain he knew but didn’t want to know.

He had to go, had to be there, to see, to smell the grief. It wasn’t real otherwise.

He couldn’t be sure what was real and what wasn’t anymore, and he supposed that was his punishment. Everything seemed too real, all of it, and he wanted to escape. But, he knew, somehow, that he never would.

There was so much hurt; it was a constant, confusing swarm and he wanted to numb the pain. He didn’t want to feel.

He wanted to drown the pain, wash it away in a sea of liquor, crawl inside a bottle and never come out. Angel could remember times when Spike had spent days, even months in a drunken stupor, especially after Buffy died.

He’d been so consumed with grief, that he could not care for anyone, least of all Jonina and certainly not himself.

He was there, where he thought he would be, at her grave. The one place he knew he wasn’t wanted, but he went, because Joni needed her Daddy.

* This is insane. This is insane…This is insane! * His inner voice tried to warn him, as he approached the mourning… *And nearly falling-down drunk from the way he’s swaying, even while he’s kneeling. He looks like he could dive right into Buffy’s headstone and not even feel it, * his inner-self snarked…vampire. But then, he remembered something. Spike was something he wasn’t anymore.

A vampire.

* He could bite you. He could turn around and…*

He cleared his throat, but that failed to give his voice any volume. The name came out as a frightened whisper, “Spike.”

A low, maniacally drunken giggle ripped the air, “Liam,” Spike slurred as he sniffed the air, “Scared of me, are you?” he asked, not turning around, eyes on the granite in front of him, “First time for everything.”

“I’m here because of Joni. She needs you. She needs her Daddy.”

Spike’s head swung low from side to side, his neck seemed unable to hold its weight, “Yeah,” he spoke slowly, as if the words had traveled a long way to reach his lips and they had made the entire trip on a steep incline, and were exhausted by the journey, “She needed her mum as well,” he reached for the tombstone, but his hand dropped suddenly before he could touch her name, as if a boulder were tied to his wrist; a weight he couldn’t lift. It seemed as though he would not allow himself to touch her now, as though he was punishing himself for letting her die.

And, he knew that because, he was punishing himself, too.

*Buffy shouldn’t have died…Now look at him. I’m so sorry, Spike. What did I do to you? *

“It’s sick, you know? Unnatural,” his voice wavered a little, “She…she tried to tell me, but I wouldn’t listen.”

“Tell you what, Spike?”

“Slayers…Vampires. It’s…” his voice trailed off, as if he’d lost the thought.

* I don’t blame him. I don’t want to think about it, either. *

“Spike…Joni she…”

“She’s a Slayer, you know,” his voice hitched on the title, “A tiny Slayer, being raised and…loved,” he sighed, “by a vampire. How sick is that?”

“She doesn’t care, Spike. She loves you.”

“So did Buffy,” her name was a heavy sob, made even more anguished by the alcohol inside him, “I can’t lose her again. I just…I can’t! Take her, Liam. Tell Joni I…Tell her that I…I…I can’t!”

“But Spike, Joni needs you. I’m not you. I can never be…”

He laughed again, and the sound was unnerving- almost mad, “The rabbit’s me,” he said, “Did you know? Named it after me, she did. She thinks it’s a protector, like a charm. Thinks, if she could just love it enough…she could make it breathe, make it live. But, it’s not,” he sobbed, “It’s dead, just like her mother…Just like me.”

Spike slowly stretched himself out on the sod, face down, and whispered her name before he, mercifully, closed his eyes and slept the numbing sleep of the grieving, drunken, dead.

Yes, he understood now. Buffy’s death had nearly destroyed him, and it did destroy Spike. Angel could never be sure how much blood was on his hands, how many people had died, because he had a part in destroying perhaps the one being who might have been able to save them.

He’d let Buffy die. He’d handed her the amulet that eventually killed her, and Spike too.

Except, Buffy wasn’t dead. She was here, and so alive. Alive enough that she punched him in the jaw, and when she did that he could have sang out with joy. But there was still blood on his hands, and he had no idea how to begin to wash it clean, or even if he would want to be clean of this.

Angel knew it all, knew that Buffy hadn’t been able to accept what Spike knew had to be done.

“It had to be paid for, Buffy. The magic…the spell that freed you, let you be a girl, and Jonina’s mum, it had to be paid for. If this is the price, then I’ll pay it. No regrets.”

He felt weak and tired and glad for the security of the chains he knew she hated, but they kept her safe, and that was all that mattered.

“No, Spike,” he heard her say, “It doesn’t have to be this way!” he could hear the fright and regret in her voice, could see it on her face, and somehow he knew, that he had failed again, “It cannot be one for the other…”

*It has to be this way! * He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t one for the other and that he’d always be with her. But, he was so tired he couldn’t form the words he needed.

* Let me go, Love. Let me go. Let me save you… *

“No!” she was saying, and, hearing her say it, he knew he’d lost, again; but, how could that be? It had never happened before, “Maybe Willow can…I can’t lose you again!”

I can’t lose you again.

That thought became paramount in Angel’s mind. It became a litany, a mantra. He wasn’t sure how he was going to do it, but he had to make Buffy see, make them both understand that this wasn’t an end. What Oscar really was, he could not have comprehended before, not without the blood to bind them.

Angel wasn’t sure how Spike had done it, but he had woven his own magic. Magic unlike Willow’s, magic of a different kind. He had done what he had always seemed able to do, turn what would be a punishment into something good.

Just like a true hero would.

“She’d just lost her Father, the one person she counted on. She was just a little girl. She was human! What did you expect her to do?”

He heard the answer, but didn’t quite believe it. * They’re out of their bloody minds! *

“Child, humans die. It is the way of countless dimensions. She was the Slayer. She, more than anyone, should have known this.”

“I know,” he said, “But, she was just a girl. She made a mistake,” he looked back, over his shoulder, at Buffy, Jonina, and Joyce, and thought of how much he would miss them. But this had to be done. He just couldn’t let her suffer, not like that. He thought of Willow as he said, “It’s one others have made,” his knees were weakening, he would not let them see him fall, “Please,” he begged, “Please, you can’t do this…”

“Would you be party to tearing her world even further asunder?”

“I’ll do whatever I bloody well have to, to protect her from *You! * You called her the destroyer, when she’s the best thing I have. The best I’ve done! You can’t do this to her!”

“You would accept her punishment as your own, then?”

He couldn’t stand anymore, so great was the swell of gratitude he felt. He’d gotten through.

He fell.

He bowed his head, wept, and said, “Yes. Thank you.”

“Daddy, no!” Joni’s voice cried out.

The last thing he saw, the last thing he remembered was a purple bird soaring in a pink sky.

Yes, Angel understood, more than he wanted to. He knew, it all started with Willow’s spell, and Buffy, and that damned amulet.

He smiled, as bittersweet tears stung his eyes. No wonder Oscar had sired him. This was going to take time to explain, and he didn’t think it could be done in just one lifetime. It seemed as though this had taken years to work out, years that went by in the blink of an eye.

How would he explain it? He didn’t know, and he had just one more day to think about how to make them understand just what had happened, and what was just about to happen.

It seemed that, this time, the rabbit would win the race.

“Good lad,” Angel said softly, as he watched the last purple ray of the sun disappear behind the pink sky of sunset, “If anyone could do it, you would,” he laughed a little as he scratched the back of his neck, in thought, “I don’t suppose you could give me a clue, then? How do I tell them?”

Spike’s voice echoed in the back of his mind, and in his soul, “Don’t have the slightest,” it jibed, good- naturedly, “You’re the drama queen.”

If it had been anyone else, Angel would have said that it was crazy. Hell, he wasn’t sure he wasn’t crazy. If Drusilla had come to him with a scheme like this in the old days… I would have patted her head, rolled my eyes, and sent her off to Spike. I never understood her anyway.

God, Dru…

“Well, Mister Rabbit,” he said, feeling more than a little strange, talking to a toy whose painted-on, time-weathered face seemed to be smiling at him. Smirking, really, mocking him in a very familiar, irritating way, “Time to go, don’t you think?” he asked as he picked up the toy just as the last of the sun’s rays faded, and went out into the night.

He was headed to Jennings Street. But, he still didn’t know what he’d say to them once he got there.
*************************************************************************************
Willow looked at the rainbow on the wall of the little room. It was beautiful, really. And, the inscription beneath the arch…Spike really did love Joni. To have to stand by while that slowly went away…was nothing but a tragedy.

She sighed, and turned her attention to the little girl beside her, “Tell me again, about Spike Rabbit.”

Joni’s eyes burned with frustration and anger, looking at her, “I told you already!”

“Tell me, again,” Willow said, patiently.

“Spike was the first who played with me. He gave me my rabbit. He sang to me. Protected me,” she sounded so far away now, like she was lost in a world she wanted to go back to, a world she knew and understood, “I was always getting lost. But, Spike would find me, and save me from the monsters. There were monsters. I know it…Daddy doesn’t think so, but…”

“I’m sure you do know,” Willow said, “You’re a big girl…”

“I am! And, I understand and I know how to fix it!” she cried.

“I know, Joni, but…” Willow tried to calm her. It really was almost scary, watching her little eyes get big, and black, and her voice was so shrill…

“Why won’t they believe me? Why do they need to talk to him?”

“I don’t know, Sweetie,” Willow said, hugging Joni close to her, trying to do what she could to shield her from her parents’ fears, “I guess because it’s scary to them. They don’t know what to do, and they call Mister Giles when they don’t know what to do.”

“But I know!” Joni sobbed, “I have to go back. Spike is my best friend, he can’t go away and leave me!”

Best friend. I know the feeling… “I know, Honey,” Willow soothed, “but sometimes we just have to…”

Joni’s head hurt. Why were they talking? Talking…talking…How could she make them understand?

Suddenly she saw a bright light. So bright that it hurt her skin. Her Mommy and Daddy were in the light, and Daddy was holding Mommy’s hand. And…There! Oh, Daddy! I have to make them understand, make you understand…

But then, her Daddy was gone. He’d fallen, like the snow from home, into…

Willow felt Joni stiffen and try to pull away from her. Something was happening. The little girl’s face had gone sickly white, as if she’d seen something horrible. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Willow was alarmed, “Are you all right? Joni?”

There was no response. It was as if there was nothing inside her, like she was empty. And then, the sound came.

Joni screamed, and fell to the floor. Willow didn’t know what to do. So, she did the only thing that made sense.

She called for Daddy.

“Spike!!!”
***************************************************************************

Giles’s words were still spinning in her head. He was supposed to know what to do. He was supposed to help, but nothing he or Dawn could come up with was any better than what Homer had said.

It wasn’t something she could stop, not without ruining the beautiful thing, the beautiful light that she remembered. She remembered Homer, and wanted to be strong.

She wanted to believe in him and trust that the pain she’d caused him would lead to something better, something good.

She wanted so much, but she wanted him most of all. She wanted him, more than he knew. But, she wasn’t a little girl, and Buffy knew that, sometimes, you didn’t get what you wanted.

But, Joni was a little girl. She was upstairs now, with Willow, trying to get over another Slayer vision. This one had sent her into convulsions.

Buffy had never been so scared in her life. And to see the look on Spike’s face…she didn’t think she’d ever forget it.

Willow said that, with time, Joni would be fine.

Buffy wasn’t sure Spike would be, though.

He’d stopped shaking, but the respite of the embrace, the comfort she wanted to give him, didn’t last long. Before she could say another word, or even breathe deep, Spike had left her, and she felt as if something had been torn from her.

Buffy could only imagine what he’d seen, what Joni had seen, and what she conjured up was, well, hellish.

She watched him pacing at the base of the stairs, fitfully looking up after Jonina, as though the Hellmouth had swallowed her. All the progress of the last few days was gone. Again, he was the trapped, lonely and frightened animal he was a few nights ago.

It broke her heart.

“Spike,” she begged, the adrenaline rushing through her making her shake with the need to fight, to make it right; but there was nothing to fight. She needed to help him. But, how would she do that, when he wouldn’t let her in? “Tell me…Please?”

He stopped pacing and turned toward her, and what she saw in his face made her want to vomit. Her stomach flipped and she had to swallow hard to keep from being sick. What she saw in his eyes was so close to what she saw that day in Sunnydale, before he told her to leave, before he said…what he said. There was only one word for what Buffy saw in his eyes.

Agony.

“Buffy, she can’t go back there, she can’t!” his voice was full of closely held emotion, the air vibrated with the effort he was making to keep his words from traveling up the stairs, to little girl ears, “How could she think that I would be better without her? You heard what she said. She was my world, all I had…She still is. If she was gone,” he shook his head, dismayed, lost, “Buffy, I…” his voice failed him, and the pain in his eyes dropped to the floor, giving her a moment to wonder what would be so awful that he would be unable to finish a thought.

What was he thinking? What had he been through? What was so horrible that he could not utter the words?

You’re my world. Don’t you know that? Why won’t you tell me? Tell me what happened to you. Please?

Buffy felt her heart sink. She knew why. In her mind, she knew why he didn’t think of her that way, as his world, if he ever had. It was because he’d been gone for so long, and she hadn’t been in his world, anywhere. How could she be anything to him? She wasn’t there, and Jonina was, it was as simple as that. She knew that, but it still hurt, and it hurt deep, that he did not count her as part of his world, as important.

He was still unsure. He still didn’t trust her. She had to change that, somehow.

“Spike, you can tell me anything. Please…What was it like?”

Spike shook his head. It seemed as if he wouldn’t tell her, but his eyes were weary, done with the fight, “That place was filled with people I thought I knew. People who told me horrible things, and did even worse, because I didn’t belong there,” he wept, as he slowly fell to his knees, facing her, his eyes never leaving hers; his body was giving out, Buffy could see that, and she knew that without the demon, Spike could not survive. She didn’t know if she could allow that to happen, if she could take it, “…Is that what you want, to know that things I love became my torturers? That they burned me? And you…?”

Buffy wanted to hold him, but didn’t know how. Could he be held, now? She wanted to, so much.

“And now, Joni knows! She knows, and still…she wants to go back there! Why? When it should be me, why?”

Buffy slowly stepped toward Spike, and knelt, so that they were as close as he would allow. They were eye to eye, almost touching. Close enough to be one person, and maybe they would be, if she could survive it.

“Spike, that’s an easy one,” Buffy said, “She loves her Daddy. Her Daddy’s hurting and she wants to fix it. She’s a Slayer, Spike. She knows something’s wrong, so wrong it hurts, and it can’t be her Daddy, so it must be her. Think. You know me,” she smiled sadly at him, “and I know what Giles said. And, if I could…If I didn’t know Homer, and all he did for us, for Joni, you, and me…If I was little. If I didn’t understand…Spike, what would I do? She knows what I know, and things I don’t,” she took a breath, and finished with a painful sigh, hoping he would understand, “You’re her Daddy, you’re what she knows. It’s hard enough for me to understand, and I’m her Mom! I still don’t want to…To have to watch you…No. Spike, what would a little girl do, if she knew her heart was broken, and she had the power to fix it, but not the wisdom to know that, maybe, she shouldn’t?”

“Broken?” he whispered, his eyes wide with fear, and a sick understanding, “No, I…” his eyes flew up the stairs once again, to the horror that was up there, unseen, and unchecked, “Willow…!”
******************************************************************************************

DECEMBER 3, 2027- NEW ENGLAND-

His voice was weak, but it had been so long since she’d heard it, that it seemed like he was shouting, “Buffy, no. This isn’t something you can fix, Love. It’s done. Gone. And, good riddance to it!”

Buffy was buoyant. She knew she could convince him. This didn’t have to happen, not like Giles said. She could fix it, “But you don’t have to,” she was nearly laughing, blissful; she didn’t have to lose him, and Joni, she would be all right, “I’ve got Willow working on it right now! I know she could…”

“No, let this go, Buffy.”

“But, how can you say that? It’s a part of you…”

“It was a part of me. A part I gave up, to have you. Even if I’d known…I still would have done it, Buffy. You can’t be rid of me now, Love,” he smiled at her, azure eyes beaming with love and triumph, “But, you have to let these old bones go,” he spoke with a weary, removed echo that made Buffy’s bones shiver like someone had opened a window and let in the cold winter air…or walked across her grave, “It’s time I laid them down. They deserve a rest, and I do too, I think.”

“But, Spike…”

“…First though, I need to talk to Jonina.”
********************************************************************************

Jonina’s head hurt, but that was all right. She opened her eyes and saw the rainbow on her wall. That rainbow was hers, and always would be, just like her Papa was hers.

She knew what to do. The pictures showed her, and now she wasn’t sad. She knew where Spike Rabbit was.

Joni smiled at the lady with the red hair that was frowning at her. Joni could tell that she was worried, but she didn’t have to be, “Willow,” she asked, “Can you tell me how to do it?”

“Do what, Joni?”

“Put the spark back inside. You did it before, I saw. Could you teach me how, so my Daddy won’t be by himself anymore?”

OCTOBER 13, 2030- NEW ENGLAND-

“Joni! No!” the fear pulled him forward. He could see Joni, standing in the middle of the rift, the power making her glow like the sun. He saw Drake, high up on the bluff, miles above the rift, holding Mabel, with nothing beneath her but clouds and a black sky. Joni’s knees were buckling. The power was too much.

And Buffy…

His fingers bled as he tried to climb to them. He saw the energy slicing a golden path through the air, and into the Slayers forcing them to the ground.

Not again! Not now…Not again, please!

He struggled to reach the top of the rock face, the rift’s heat searing his face, his eyes. Drake’s eyes, glowing with a malicious and evil light, narrowed to knifepoints, spotting his enemy.

An evil Spike had never felt before, shook his chest, his fingers digging into the rock, trying to hold on under the onslaught of power. If he couldn’t save them, he would at least be a witness and swear with all that was in him, that Drake would pay for taking his girls from their mother.

“Choose, Spike!” Drake’s voice boomed, “Choose. You can’t save them all. One is your heart, one your soul, and your spirit. All are in danger. Which can you live without?” he sneered.

“None!” he spat his curse, “You hurt them, I’ll see you in Hell!”

“Really? Let’s find out.”
**************************************************

NOVEMBER 1, 2030-

Spike slowly moved his head to the side and Buffy saw his eyes fall to his manacled left wrist, she winced a little as he tried to pull at the restraint and her heart sank when she heard him sigh. It was a sigh of comfort, not shock. And she hated hearing it.

She hated putting the chains into the wall. Hated that they were there at all. Hated watching Angel wrestle him to the floor after…

She felt the sting behind her eyes. No. I will not cry!

His eyes traveled to the right, followed the length of his outstretched arm, and pulled weakly at the chain. Buffy held her breath and wondered if the chain would hold. Angel was sure that it would, but she wasn’t. Spike smiled. There was relief. He was content. A matching set.

She hated it.

But, they might be needed now.

His gaze fell back to her, as she knelt beside him. A memory flashed and she was back in Sunnydale.

God, will it ever stop? He doesn’t know. And, when I tell him…

“Buffy,” he rasped out, voice weary from disuse, “Where’s Joni? I need to talk to her.”

Buffy shot a glance at both Angel and Willow. “Willow,” she hissed, “Tell me why.”

“It was the confrontation with Drake,” she breathed, exhausted, “It had to be. It triggered something.”

“Drake?” Buffy spat the name out as though it were poison, “He’d better be dead, that’s all I know!”

“He is,” Angel said, “I’ve seen to it.”

“Buffy,” Willow said, “Mabel’s safe. And, Drake is gone, thank God. But, there’s still the magic…Wolfram and Hart really knew what they were doing, and who they were after, all along.”

Angel bristled at the reminder, once again, that he was insignificant.

“But, I thought you said…”Buffy started.

Willow took a step forward, ready to defend herself, and interrupted, “I know what I said, Buffy,” she was clearly angry, and tired, her voice held just a little lunacy in it, a side-effect of her walkabout through his frenzied mind, “It’s elaborate, even for now. But, back then… I’ve never seen such powerful magic! Buffy, the amulet…”she shook her head in dismay, “There’s not much left, but what is there, is there to protect him. He’s strong, Buffy. He’s put himself in, like you did, after Glory took Dawn. I think his name is Homer,” she paused, giving a slight smile, “and does he ever hate me…not that he doesn’t have reason to, of course. Spike has always distrusted magic, and after the spell, and Lace, I don’t blame him. But, this is almost obsessive…”

“Something he does well,” Angel muttered under his breath, “He learned from me.”

“How much is gone?” Buffy asked, afraid to know the answer.

“Buffy, I can’t find anything after winter of 2005,” Willow told her.

“That long ago?” Buffy gasped.

“Yeah, I guess his memory’s been wiped,” Willow looked sidelong at Angel, “I’ve been trying to break through, plant suggestions about his life here. But, he won’t hear them. I’ve found what looks like an old memory, a memory of someone he cared about, I think, when he was human. It’s faded, so I think it’s older than he is, you know, since he became a vampire. Someone named…Oscar, I think,” Willow winced just thinking of the pain that surrounded that particular memory, “There’s a world of pain there. I could use it, but, I don’t think it would work the way I want it to, and, I don’t dare do any more. It would break him, Buffy. His mind…He might not make it.”

“Joni…” Spike muttered, oblivious to the conversation swirling around him.

“Oh, Willow!” Buffy almost sobbed, hearing that name.

“She’s the one thing I can’t break through. It’s like she’s embedded…”

“Like Dawn is, for me. When Glory had her, I couldn’t see past her. I protected her. Until…until I died. The end of the world.”

I don’t want to tell him again. His eyes…His eyes were so empty.

“…The last thing she’ll see is me, protecting her.” Her own voice screamed back at her. Now she was beginning to know the guilt that he had, so many years ago.

If I hadn’t sent them to seal that rift…this would never have…Oh, God!

“It makes sense, Buffy,” Angel offered, knowing that he would never live with the shame of what he had been made to believe, “Drake has been trying to rebuild the Home Office of Wolfram and Hart for years. Joni was just the start. If they could somehow prevent him from knowing…it would be as though they’d never shut down. It would be business as usual.”

Buffy threw her gaze at him, “Angel, if you can’t offer anything more than ancient history, I would get out of my sight, if I were you!”

Her glare was enough to push him against the wall. He would stay there, but he would not leave. If this is my punishment… He had to do something.

Buffy turned her attention back to Spike. If she couldn’t help him, she could at least make sure he had someone to hold on to. She reached to brush some of the matted hair from his forehead, and was amazed at how soft it was. “Spike,” she said softly, as she felt her heart leap in sorrow and sad hope when he shivered at her small touch. He knew her, and there seemed to be little, if any pain at the contact. His trembling seemed to be more from relief than pain or fear. He was better, or getting there, anyway, “Joni would want you to rest…”

“I know…”his voice trailed off, his brows furrowed, eyes looking at her with the sharpness she hadn’t seen in months; so long that it shocked her, seeing it, and she wondered if he knew, if she’d forgotten something. Part of her hoped so…she didn’t want to say it. As long as…she wouldn’t have to say it, make it real. But now… “Buffy,” he demanded, teeth clenched tight, jaw setting, pushing back the unknown, known, “what aren’t you telling me?”
***********************************************************

DECEMBER 22, 2005- LOS ANGELES-

Willow could hear Spike calling her name, and she called back, “We’re up here, Daddy. Everything’s okay…” she could hear the fear in his voice, and she wanted to assuage it, for Joni’s sake, “No need to…”

Before she could even finish the thought, Buffy and Spike were standing, silhouetted by the light that filtered into Joni’s darkened room, “…worry,” she finished, chagrined at the look of distrust that she saw flash in the vampire’s eye.

“Rather see that for myself, if you don’t mind, Willow,” Spike said.

Joni could hear it in her Daddy’s voice. He was scared, like the time she’d gotten lost in the snow. She had wanted to surprise him because he always seemed so sad. But, how was she going to surprise him with the flowers she found, if he saw where she went to find them? Daddy was always telling her about bad things, but…and anyway, she was big.

So, one day, while he was sleeping, she snuck out. By the time he found her, she was so cold that her teeth were chattering, and when he called her name his voice was soft and scary, like it was now.

“We were just talking, Daddy,” she said, “I think I know what to do.”

Willow could see the fire in Spike’s eye, even from the doorway, and Buffy wasn’t much more promising. She was looking at her with suspicion, and maybe just a little fear. That was something that she supposed would always be there now. That fear would never go away.

Not since she’d tried to kill Dawn, and destroy the world.

“Joni,” Willow said, giving her glowering parents a wary look before focusing her attention on the little girl, and smiling her warmest smile, so as not to alarm her, “why don’t you tell your Mommy and Daddy, just for fun, what it was we were talking about. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said sweetly, sensing the tension that was in the air, “Don’t be mad. It was my idea, not Aunt Willow’s,” Joni looked down, trying to find something that could make this better. She didn’t like it when her Daddy looked like that, especially when she thought that she might be the reason why he did, “I just thought that, if you won’t let me go back, then maybe I can find a way to bring Papa here, again. He’s not gone.”

Willow nodded, encouragingly, “And how were you going to do that, Joni?” she asked, glancing toward the doorway.

“I was going to ask Willow to show me how to bring Papa back. But now, I don’t know what to do. Mommy,” Joni turned to look at Buffy, her eyes shining with earnest intent, “ there’s so much, and I’m so little. Tell me what to do, Mommy. Please…tell me what to do.”

Buffy could feel the air vibrate with tension, and it frightened her. It was as though the night had swallowed Joni when she began to tremble.

It was as though someone had stepped on her daughter’s grave.

And, perhaps someone had.

Buffy could sense Spike’s muscles tightening as Joni spoke, she could almost feel his despair as she stepped past him, and into the little room, to comfort her daughter, “Joni, sweetheart,” she said as she knelt to meet the eyes of a child, “if only it were that easy…”

“But, it is!” Jonina insisted, her brown eyes growing cold and steely with determination, not like a child’s eyes at all. The tiny Slayer cocked her head, and it was all Buffy could do not to gasp. The gesture was so familiar to her that it left no doubt who had taught her, and raised her during her formative years,“ I’ve seen you. You told Willow to do it, when you were fighting the other…” her voice trailed off briefly as her gaze flitted to her Daddy again before coming back to focus on her mother’s face, “… and the big stone monster opened up, and he went away,” Jonina sighed, and her whole body shuddered, as if something had touched her.

Buffy had no idea where to start. So, Jonina asked a question that did break her heart. With a certainty that chilled even Buffy, Jonina asked, “If Daddy won’t let me go, is he going to die?”

Buffy’s breath caught, and she blinked. She heard Spike trying to contain something that sounded like a growl, or was it a sob, within him. It didn’t matter what it was. It might have been a little of both, whichever it was, it was difficult to hear.

She looked at him, at a loss as to what to say, and then at Joni, “I don’t know, Joni,” she said. And it was the truth. She didn’t know. There was no reason to lie to her. She’d know the truth anyway.

“Dove, this isn’t…” Spike tried to comfort her, gently coming into the room and kneeling beside his wife, his eyes shining with a father’s love.

“That’s not true, Daddy!” Joni shook her head, and reached a hand out to touch her father’s cheek, “This is my fault, Daddy. I know it,” she gave a sad giggle, and looked at her father from under her lashes, “It’s funny. Monsters, saving the princess from the dragon, just like the fairytales you told me. I understand now, Daddy.”

“No…” there was a fierce denial in his voice even as it broke, and Buffy wondered if this is what Spike had felt like as he watched her plummet off a tower and into that terrible light, because, right now she would do anything, anything to keep him from dying.

And all she could do was watch.

“You saved me from the monsters, Daddy,” Joni was smiling the kind of smile that told of a special secret she’d just found out about, and saying, “Aunt Willow says I know things, things I shouldn’t, because of the headache. I think it hurts because my head’s too small. But, I know things now, Daddy. And, one day, when I’m big enough, I’m gonna save you. I promise,” her angelic face set and she said again, “I promise, Daddy. One day, I’ll reach into Heaven, and save you from the monsters.”

Spike smiled at his little girl, and taking her into a hug, he whispered in her ear, “You already have, Dove. You already have,” tears laced his words, for saying them brought him more happiness and sorrow than he thought he would ever know.

DECEMBER 23, 2005

It had been so cold, and then she came.

How can I tell her? For her, for them, it was Light and Love, as it should be. But not for me, for me it was…

He looked into her eyes as she lay beside him. Hope. I see it there. I need that. But, I can’t take it from you…

She watched the storm clouds gathering in his eyes, could almost feel the warmth, the hope that had been there just a few days ago, ebbing away, making him colder, even as she touched him. Buffy didn’t like to see Spike in that much pain. Oh, he wouldn’t say it, but he was in pain. No amount of hugs and kisses to little girl cheeks could hide that, and she should know, she’d been there herself after her Mom died.

She saw the hurt, but what hurt her most was what Spike couldn’t share. He couldn’t share his pain with her because his soul, the essence of what he was, had been tortured and traumatized by what she had done.

Still, she had to try. He would do it for her.

“Spike,” she tried again, “I’ll take care of her. I promise. She will know. She’ll know how much you love her, I swear, I’ll tell her. She won’t forget you. I won’t let her. She won’t forget,” her throat tightened, and made the next words painful, but she needed to say them; he needed to hear them, “I won’t forget, Spike.”

His arm tightened around her as she lay beside him, and she held her breath, wondering if he knew how gigantic that small token of his affection, whether he was aware of it or not, was for her now; now that she was counting them and storing them up like the treasures they were, like she should have done when they were so freely given that she did not recognize them.

She was storing them against the famine they both feared would come too soon.

His eyes were so bright and sharp, so completely focused on her that it almost made her heart skip a beat. This was another thing she feared she would lose, another thing to file away for the cold days to come. “But, what happens if I forget her? What if I hurt her? And you, what about you? ” Spike asked, his voice distracted, as though he were trying to gather the loose ends of thoughts he couldn’t quite grasp. For a moment that worried her, but then she realized that he wasn’t distracted in the sense that he was coming apart at the seams; he was distracted because he was worried.

You would never forget her, Spike. You’d tear yourself apart first. Buffy tightened her grip on his back a little and gazed at his intensely bright eyes; eyes that were somehow brighter than she remembered, and not because of passion, this was pure fear she was seeing in his eyes. Maybe you already have. “Spike, you won’t forget her, I won’t let you and neither will Joni.”

When she said it, she knew it would be true. Buffy fell asleep in his arms, offering now, to him, the mirror image of the kind of comfort he had offered her in the last days of Sunnydale and she knew that, If not today, then someday. Someday, it would be true.
********************************************************************************************

MONDAY DECEMBER 20, 2027-

“Buffy, no,” Willow shook her head, “It’s not right.” She looked at Spike as he lie on the bed. He looked small, but small things can be very scary, she should know, and add to that he was somehow feverish, and not from a poison she could see, no this was thanks to Angel—and Wolfram and Hart- and that was just dangerous, and deadly, “He said no. I don’t want to be responsible for…”

“I know what you promised him,” Buffy said, “and I thank you for doing it. And, if he were really…leaving…I would expect you to keep to that promise,” Buffy smiled sadly, her eyes bright, as she and her best friend looked down at Spike’s still form, “But, you see, Spike’s not going anywhere.”

Willow sighed. She’d seen that look before; she even had her own version of it. “Resolve Face” she called it, and it had always worked on Xander. Now it was working on her.

“All right,” she relented, and even as the words came out, all Willow could think was: * Spike would hate me for this. * “Just give me a few more days to get the stuff I need to do the spell. Tell Joni to be ready,” she nodded slightly, her eyes never leaving Buffy’s, “In the park, you both know where. I’ll tell you when.”

Willow closed her eyes, her ears filling with Buffy’s tearful thanks as they held each other in an embrace of hope- the only hope this tiny house had seen for quite some time- and hoped Spike wouldn’t hate her too much, if this made Buffy happy then…it would be all right…Right?
*************************************************************************************************

Angel heard the distant siren of an ambulance, and somewhere in this hour before light, a baby cried. He saw the brick building on Jennings Street looming before him and still unsure of what to do, and as he smiled wryly at the toy rabbit he held at his side, he was almost certain the Powers were laughing at him.

He wasn’t even sure they would let him in the door. But, he had to try. The world was depending on her, and on him to get it right this time.

He had to get it right.

He could still hear Jonina’s voice calling out to him, that one last promise.

Her promise. The last thing she’d said to him. He saw it. Knew it as if he’d been there himself, and his chest crumbled from the pain:
**********************************************************************

His eyes burned from the sight of her. His sun, blazing in the night sky, and he knew it wasn’t right.

His fingers bled as they dug into the rock, desperately clinging to his life. “Joni! No!” The light was burning him, but he refused to look away. It hurt, but he would see, see what he’d made of her. His light. His blood…

Then suddenly, it all went black, and the wind screamed the promise to his heart. A gift.

A gift passed down, mother to daughter, and now down to him.

A gift he didn’t want, not at all.

As the light went out, he heard it: “I promise, Daddy. I promise.”

Angel took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

December 21, 2027- LOS ANGELES-

Buffy’s breath caught at the sight of it. The little brick building on Jennings Street. It was just the same as when they’d left it, and her heart hurt looking at it. Inside the windows there was so much love and pain, so much of that, that it almost was a living thing. She hadn’t been here in years…not since…Spike had wanted to get as far away from the memories as he could and she hadn’t fought him. She wanted that too, to surround Joni with things that spoke of life not…If Spike knew that Joni had come back here, and that she’d allowed her to…

Buffy sighed. There was no going back now. The little cricket chirping inside her head told her, pleaded with her to stop, but she couldn’t. This was too important to Joni. If this worked, it wouldn’t matter if Spike was angry, and she knew he would be. It wouldn’t matter to her if he went crazy. Angel was there, and she’d help him through it. She owed him that much.

At least he’d be there.

She could save him.

She could save him, and then Joni would be whole again. She hadn’t been right since…

Spike had tried give back what that place had taken from her. And it worked. She had it all back. Well, not all, but enough.

No one should remember that place. Joni didn’t, and neither did Spike. His mind was like a sieve. Things went in but didn’t stay. It was slow at first. A forgotten word, a face, but now it was awful. And now Joni knew. She understood.

And there was no talking a Slayer out of anything.

Her daughter was so much like her.

Looking at her now though, she looked so much like him. So determined, so single-minded and stubborn. Angel’s words came back to her. "He won’t stop, Buffy. He’ll never stop. He loves you too much to stop."

Someone had to stop her. She blocked her daughter’s path, and hoped that she could reach her,“Did you know that he painted that room just for you? Did you see what he wrote? That was for you. He meant it, you know? He’ll love you forever, and so will I. Nothing can change that.”

“Mom,” Joni huffed, “we don’t have time for this. Willow said it had to be done here. You know I wouldn’t have left him otherwise. If he…” Joni looked down, overcome, the thought choked by the swell of emotion.

Buffy placed a hand on Joni’s shoulder, looking at her with shining eyes, “Baby,” she said thickly, “don’t you think I know that? But, if he lost you…?” Buffy shook her head. It was truly unthinkable. “Baby, that would kill him. Please,” she begged, “don’t do this.”

“I have to, Mom. I have to,” she said as she turned and walked away from her mother and went back to the place where it all began.
******************************************************************************************

DECEMBER 23, 2005-

If she weren’t so desperate, Buffy would have never let him in. She thought that Spike would have thrown him out the minute he saw Angel. She thought for sure, when he saw the rabbit…

But no, instead he’d clung to him, like something lost.

“Please, you have to help. What do I do?” Spike begged, his voice raw from the emotion that was choking him, “You were there. You know.”

“Yes, Spike,” Angel agreed, slowly pulling out of Spike’s desperate grasp and casting a glance into Joni’s darkened room, “I do know and I will help. But, it will mean losing her again,” Buffy saw Angel’s eyes darken ominously when he looked at her, and she wanted to scream. Just how much do we…does he have to lose? How much is enough? “…Can you do that?”

“Yes.” he said.

Just like that…and she was gone. So quickly, like a breath. Like he needed it. As though he couldn’t say anything else, as if he couldn’t see…

And Buffy’s soul burned within her chest. The fire choked her, and she remembered the taste of the heat and ash.

“Angel, how can you ask him that?” Buffy demanded, “Hasn’t he been through enough because of you? Isn’t one hell enough?”

Angel sighed, his head tilted slightly as he looked at her, and he smiled. No. That’s not a smile. That’s a smirk… And Buffy could feel her eyes widening at the sight. She heard Angel chuckling and a chill went up her spine. “And there it is,” he was saying, “Buffy, we don’t have time for this. You may not believe me. But, Spike does. He knows I’m telling the truth. He knows that this is the only way he can keep you. The only way he can be what he started becoming that day on the Hellmouth. The destiny that Wolfram and Hart knew they had to stop…”

Buffy shook her head, wanted to cover her ears. He wasn’t saying this. He wasn’t. Spike wasn’t standing there letting him say this, as if he couldn’t stop it…

The words echoed in her head. His voice. So sad and alone:

“It was all happening again, and I couldn’t stop it…”

“…You’ll have to help him. Can you do that?” Angel asked, “It could be bad. Very bad, worse than when I came back from…”

Buffy swallowed her fear, closed her eyes and put her hand out to stop his horrible words, “Yes,” she whispered, “I can do it.”

She sent out all her love to him through her eyes, and hoped that he could see that she could… “I can do it, Spike.”
*********************************************************************************

NOVEMBER 1, 2030-

The roar shook the walls of the little house. Buffy’s eyes stung and she wanted to clutch her ears, block out his cries, “Angelus, let me go! I’ll kill him! He touches her and I’ll kill him! I swear, I’ll rip his throat out!”

This was awful, watching him struggle. Angel had managed to take him down and get the manacles on him. He was safe now, at least physically.

“Spike,” Angel breathed, “I’m gonna back off now,” he said as he clambered up from the floor, “You rest.”

Angel turned and left the basement, and Buffy was left to drift on the sea of grief she saw in Spike’s eyes as she approached him. She knelt. He was searching her face, wanting her, needing her, like that night in Sunnydale, at the cave. She touched his face, moist with angry tears, and he leaned into her touch, “Buffy,” he pleaded softly, “please tell me…” his head rocked on the basement floor, desperate to deny Angel’s words, “…it’s not true. He’s lying! She’s not…” he stopped, the word, the thought, choking him, “…Joni’s not dead!” he hissed, the anguish dampening the heat of the hate in his voice, “Tell me our daughter is *not* dead!”

The tears burned her throat. This was her corner of his Hell. To have to say it, and see it kill him, over and over again… “Oh, Spike, if only I could!”

DECEMBER 23, 2005-

Buffy hung up the phone. “Georgie agreed. She’ll look after Jonina tonight. A nice, normal sleepover, and in the morning…”

“All’s right with the world?” Willow finished, hopefully.

“Right. Now, where’s Angel?”

“I’m right here,” Angel’s voice came out of the dark, suddenly, and it made Buffy start.

“Jesus!” Buffy breathed, “Angel, you haven’t changed since I was sixteen!”

“I guess not,” Angel admitted, “But,” he reached into the pocket of his duster for the small vial and syringe, “I still have connections.”
********************************************************

“Spike? Can you hear me?” Buffy looked at Spike, his eyes were glassy, and there was almost no blue in them now. She didn’t like it. They were desperate to help Joni, but… “Angel, are you sure this will work?”

“She has his D.N.A. If it works on him, it should work on Jonina, too. All that it would need is an adjustment for her height and weight.”

Buffy shook her head, sadly, “So, he’s a lab rat…again. This had better work. I am very attached to my neck, and if this isn’t right…I could lose them both!”I’ve made dozens, maybe thousands of life and death decisions…so easy…But this…this…

“Would you rather it was Joni?” Angel hissed in frustration.

“No!” Buffy yelped, “But, your source? You can trust him?”

“Yes. Yes, I can.”
*********************************************************************************

Spike struggled to sit up, but couldn’t stop the room from spinning, so he gave in to the tide, resting his head on the floor, which, blissfully seemed to hold him steady. His eyes found Buffy, floating in the space next to him, and his stomach rolled in on itself; the fear crept up behind him and put a cold hand on his shoulder as the rattle of chains reached through the muslin that surrounded him. Why am I restrained? What happened? Funny that…never really looked at it from this side before, it’s downright rude.

“If you wanted to play, Slayer, all you had to do was ask,” Spike growled, in a way that Buffy hadn’t heard since the night he put fear in her heart with one sentence: If I find your friends first, I’m gonna suck ‘em dry…“I don’t need this much persuasion.”

That was when he heard it. That little intake of air, as though she’d been rabbit punched in the kidneys. Understanding began to lift the fog and he looked at her, “Buffy, I know there must be a good reason for this, I don’t question you at all. But, I honestly don’t remember.”

Fear. He hated feeling it, and worse still, he hated seeing it in Buffy’s eyes.

“I know. It’s all right. What do you remember?”

Spike tried to focus but couldn’t seem to grasp anything beyond his own name, and he wasn’t even sure of that. What was she expecting? The look in her eyes, there must be something…something, but he couldn’t find it. He knew something was there, he just couldn’t reach it and the calm he felt seemed wrong somehow, when all he saw in Buffy’s eyes was a quietly screeching fear.

Why is it so quiet?

He looked up at the ceiling and his eyes widened, “Okay,” he said, wearily, “now I know this isn’t L.A.”

“And how do you know that?”

Buffy’s heart skipped a beat when Spike fixed her with an almost playful glance, a small smile teasing across his face as he told her, “Sound’s too muffled. Soft. Like there’s…snow on the roof. Doesn’t snow in L.A., Pet.”

“Oh,” Buffy tried to keep the fear from her voice as she slowly backed away from him. It was obvious Willow had done it wrong, maybe taken too much.

She looked at Willow, “Willow…what did you do?”

Willow’s eyes widened at Buffy’s heated glance, “Me? I didn’t…I mean, all I did was suggest that…he take himself back to a place, a time, when he was confident and at peace, so that if we had to…” she swallowed hard and tried to slow her heart rate. It was difficult to know what he could and couldn’t discern right now. This wasn’t the time to take any chances, “ tell him what happened to him,” she whispered, “It would be happening to someone else, like a forgotten story, and it might not hurt as much. It was the only thing I could think of, and it might help,” she bit her lip in nervous thought as she took in the almost drunken, glazed, look in Spike’s eyes, “I don’t know, Buffy…I hope I got the dosage right. And I think Angel’s left. He didn’t say anything about side effects…But then, vampires don’t have circulating blood, so that won’t be a problem. Will it?”

Buffy chuckled humorlessly, “ Leave it to Angel to vanish into the night when the dirty work starts. Spike looks so out of it, got any more of that stuff? I could use a shot right now.”

“No, sorry. It’s not meant for humans. Vampires only, Angel’s special recipe,” Willow shook her head in astonishment. That was some fast acting stuff, “And, judging by the thousand-yard stare, that’s some really powerful magic.”

Buffy nodded in silent agreement, “He still knows who I am?”

“Yeah, he does. At least he should. All that happened is there, I think. He knows but it’s all fuzzy to him.”

“Like he’s watching it instead of being part of it?”

“I suppose so. I’m sorry, Buffy.”

“ Yeah. Well,” she sighed as she stepped closer to where Spike was lying and knelt, “here goes,” Buffy took a deep breath and asked, in a small, pleasant voice, “Spike?”

“Hmmm?” the response seemed sluggish, drugged.

Buffy looked at Willow, “Are you sure?”

“No, Buffy. I’m not a vampire. He knows, Buffy. Ask him.”

“Spike, can you see what happened?”

He nodded.

“Can you tell me?”

Buffy watched him nod again, but he seemed so far away that she wasn’t really sure he understood her. His eyes were unfocused as he turned away from her and stared at the corner of the room, “You’re here,” he whispered, and Buffy could tell that he was overwhelmed with emotion by what, or who, he saw, “I thought you’d gone.”

Oscar smiled at him, “We wanted to say hello.”

“We?” Spike asked.

Oscar nodded, and then Spike saw whom he was talking about. There she was, just as she was all those years ago…and she was * alive. *

“Diana!”

“And, that’s not all…”

Just then, two other little girls appeared; one Spike knew… “Joni! Oh, Dove, are you all right?”

“Yes, Daddy, I’m fine. I promise.”

Joni was holding someone’s hand. A little girl with blue eyes and blonde pigtails, and bumblebee shoelaces.

“Well,” Spike purred, still not looking at Buffy, “aren’t you a pretty thing? Who are you?”

“I’m your gift, Daddy.”

“My gift?”

Buffy held her breath listening to him. There was something familiar about this…She remembered her dream about circles and sand “Oh, Mom!” Buffy said a silent thank you to her mother.

“…What’s your name, Sweetheart?” Spike was saying.

“My name is Mabel”

“That’s a beautiful name. It means ‘lovable’ doesn’t it?”

Her big blue eyes sparkled and she nodded.

“I don’t see him, is Homer with you?”

“He’s safe,” Mabel said, touching her heart as she walked up to him. She sat down on the floor in front of him, leaned over, and kissed his cheek. Spike felt a rush of heat, the love washing over him…

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



DECEMBER 22, 2027-

Joni knew that her mother wouldn’t understand. In fact, she would be furious, and so would he, but he would be alive and that’s all that mattered at this point.

There was a reason she was back here, in Los Angeles…well two reasons, but Aunt Willow and her Mom did not need to know about that; they were already crazed when it came to her, but if her family wouldn’t tell her, someone else would, for the right price.

Sometimes it was hard to convince them that she wasn’t eight years old anymore. Did they forget that she was the Slayer?

And sometimes Joni wanted to be, so very badly; so bad it hurt. But, she couldn’t think about that now. She had a job to do. She took a deep breath as she walked through the doors of the Wolfram & Hart building, and made her way to the thirtieth floor.

The elevators opened on a deafening quiet. Thick carpeting and soundproof walls muffled the work of day-to-day evil. And, Joni understood that what she was about to do would not change anything. Evil was still here, it still destroyed hearts and lives; Angel and her Daddy were proof of that, and people still died every day.

As she walked to the reception desk that stood, like a great imposing obelisk, the axis on which the wheel of chaos turned, Joni knew what her Daddy would say.

She could almost hear him whispering in her ear, feel his breath on her neck as he pleaded, “Jonina Irene Dustin, stop right now! Don’t do this! Please! I can’t lose you…again.”

She pushed the quiet scream out of her mind, and when the pretty woman smiled at her she said, “Yes, hello. I have an appointment with Webster Drake. My name is Jonina Dustin.”

The woman’s eyes widened a little at that, “Oh yes,” she said, “He’s been expecting you.”