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*Chapter Repost*
IN THE INTERREGNUM

"Joni, your Daddy said you needed to talk to me?"

Joni was pacing, much like her father did. She was all nervous energy, even here. At first Buffy couldn't understand it. She thought that maybe something would change inside; she thought that something would be different about them. But then she remembered that when she was first here, she was still who she was. Even though she wasn't on that plane of existence anymore, she was still who she was. She didn't change. Why would she expect it to be different for the ones she loved?

Joni ran to her mother's arms, the tears running down her face, "Mommy, is that really you?"

"Yep," Buffy nodded as she held her daughter, "Me and Daddy and Grandma. We're all here. And, we love you."

"I missed you all so much!"

"I know, Sweetheart. And I know you want to help," she winked at her daughter, "So, what do you say you give your Mommy a little help setting someone on the path to becoming your Daddy, and fulfilling a destiny he'd given up on?"

Buffy could see the impish twinkle flare in Joni's eye. She was so like her father that it made Buffy smile, "Okay," Joni smirked as she held her mother's hand, "what did you have in mind?"

Buffy leaned close to Joni's ear and whispered, "I was thinking, we needed to do something really important to get his attention."
*****************

Spike didn't like it. Slayers didn't just trip on rocks and twist their ankles until they became swollen purple masses, despite what Buffy said. In all the times they'd been locked in combat, whether he was her enemy or her ally at the time, she never once twisted her ankle. Not once in all the time she fought him. This just wasn't right.

Buffy tried to push him away. She didn't need him to hold her up. She could walk to the car on her own. Okay, so it was more like hobbling, but it still got her to the car, "Spike, go away, I'm fine," she saw the worry mixed with a touch of fright, competing for dominance in his eyes, "Don't get me wrong, I love that you're so attentive. And, the next time I get the flu, I'll soak up all the attention you can give out," she put her hand to his cheek, trying to soothe the worry lines she saw there, "But right now I need you to stop treating me like spun glass. It makes me nervous. And, it's just a twisted ankle. In two days I'll be ready to spar with you again," she smiled, "It'll be just like old times."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of, Love. I'm not ready for another apocalypse right now," Spike shut his eyes, suddenly realizing that for the first time in six months, perhaps longer, he was admitting to being scared, "I don't think I'm fit to be in that world. And, I can't protect you unless I'm on top of my game. And I'm nowhere near ready."

Her face softened as she smiled at him. She really did love him. And she could say that now. Buffy knew that she would do whatever she had to, to keep that lost, sad look from overshadowing the sparkle in his eyes, "Who says I need protecting?" Buffy asked, wishing she could wipe the worry out of his azure eyes.

At his downcast eyes, indicating her bruised ankle and she countered his silent argument, "That was gravity. It wasn't demonic. Even the best person, Slayer or not, falls down sometimes," she shrugged her shoulders, "And as far as apocalypses go, they come whether you're ready or not. But, if it'll make you feel better, there are still six hours until sunset. Why don't you rest? Then we can get back to the world saving business."

Spike let out an unnecessary sigh, "All right. I know you think I'm being overcautious. But something in me is telling me that whatever Rupert has brewing, it feels big and bad and ugly, and I don't like it. I want to keep you from it, if I can."

"Spike, I love you for that. I do. But, ugly, big and bad, that's what I'm good at."
******************

APRIL 10, 2005-LOS ANGELES

Xander slammed the book closed in frustration. The remnants of the original "Scooby Gang," had been up for the last forty-eight hours, looking for a "Big Bad" that Giles was being extremely vague about, "We got nothing, Giles," he looked up at the Watcher, "Don't you have anything more specific?"

Giles pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to clear his tired vision, and looked knowingly at Willow, who seemed to shrink under the heat of his glare, "I already told you my theory. Willow doesn't want to face the possibility that her spell may have been responsible for this girl's genetic anomaly. Unless we can pinpoint the exact cause, we may have no hope of fighting this when it comes, if it isn't already here."

"And because of the 'Dead Boy Wonder' all we have left of this mysterious Typhoid Mary, is a group of numbers on a piece of paper with the County Coroner's letterhead?"

Giles nodded, grimly.

"Did he drink her blood?" Xander asked, with relish, "Because if he did, maybe we can drain it from him, slowly, and see what it looks like?" he threw the Coroner's report down, in frustration, and it skidded across the table, coming to rest on the floor at the foot of the other side of the table, "I didn't understand trigonometry when I was in school," he yelled, "How am I supposed to understand it, now? Does Angel even understand how evil he is?" Xander asked, through gritted teeth.

"Creatures such as he, rarely comprehend the havoc they reek, until the damage is done," Giles said.
**************************

For the first time in six months, Spike was able to rest. Although he did have dreams, they were different.

He saw the little girl Buffy and he had found dying in an alleyway, on their wedding night. Except, she wasn't dead.

He saw her, striding with purpose through a cemetery. This wasn't patrol, but she carried herself like a Slayer. There was something familiar about the way she carried herself. It reminded him of the way Buffy had moved, after they began to train together. It seemed as if he had trained this Slayer. But the only place that he could remember her face was from that night in the alley. He would have remembered her from the last days of Sunnydale.

She held herself, trying to warm her small frame. Her feet seemed to crunch as she walked, as if there were dry leaves under her feet. He could see the white wisp of her breath as it floated on the air. He could tell that wherever this cemetery was, it wasn't California, by any stretch of the imagination. To Spike, it looked a little more like New England.

The girl looked so lost that Spike decided to follow her. He would stay to the shadows so that she wouldn't see him, but he would follow.

She seemed to sense him, no matter how careful he was to stay out of sight. She wasn't making a point of letting him know that she knew he was there, but she wasn't going out of her way to expose him, either. And, she wasn't headed for the more lighted pathways, so he could tell she wasn't scared.

That was good. Slayers should be alert, but not scared. This Slayer wasn't a newbie.

Just as he was about to settle in and watch a true Slayer work, she addressed him. Without looking back at him, she spoke to him with a voice that was as soft and familiar as an old plush toy, "Don't bother trying to hide, Daddy. I know you're there."

The fraternal form of address froze Spike on the spot. She turned, and smiled. He was gob smacked, "Daddy?" he asked.

She nodded, slowly stepping toward him, "What else would I call you? You're my Daddy."

He stared at her in wonder, "But...how? Buffy and I...we can't."

"That won't make any difference to me when I'm seven, and you're teaching me how to ride a bike without training wheels."

"Are you real?"

"As real as your dreams are," she smiled, "More," she knelt in front of a tombstone and lovingly brushed the dry leaves away.

He tried to read the name that was carved into the stone, but she moved to block his view, "No Daddy. This isn't important now," she straightened, turning to see him with her back to the engraving, "The thing that has been creeping inside you, that you've been scared of?" her eyes stayed on the ground, "I'm the cause of it," she looked into his horrified gaze, "Please don't look at me like that, Daddy. I didn't know I was going to hurt you." Spike could see that she was crying, "I just missed you and Mom so much. I just wanted to see you. I didn't know. I'm also the cure, too," she whimpered, "But, Angelus doesn't know that," she sniffed, her arms itching to hold him and have him tell her he loved her again. Like he had before her Mom died, "You have to save me, Daddy. You have to save me, and Mommy, too."

"I can't do that if I don't know your name, Dove."

She blinked in surprise, "Dove?"

Spike nodded, indicating the mark on her cheek, "Oh, I forgot," she said placing her hand on her face, over her mark, "That's what you used to call me. My name is Joni. It's Jonina, actually. Jonina Dustin. Remember, okay? It's time to wake up now, Daddy. The answer is back in Los Angeles. I know you can do it, Daddy. I have faith in you."

Spike woke up at dusk, and he and Buffy packed up the car and headed back to Los Angeles.
*************************

On the long drive back to Los Angeles, Spike thought about the dream he'd had. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got; angry enough to propel him to do something about what he was feeling.

As he drove, he waited for someone to pick up the line. It was Giles who answered, "Watcher, the Slayer and I are headed back. We should reach the Jennings Street dojo just before dawn. Before we arrive, see what the Council can unearth on the girl Buffy and I sent to the coroner March twenty-second. She's not a 'Jane Doe' anymore, Giles. She has a name. It's Jonina Dustin."

"How did you know?" Giles asked.

"Don't ask, Watcher. Just get me the information, any way you can."

The look on Spike's face left Buffy with no doubt as to whom his Grandsire was. It also told her he was serious, and deadly so. And that frightened her. She placed her hand on his arm, feeling the taught muscles under his shirtsleeve. He was tense. Too tense for her own comfort, "Are you all right?" she asked.

His jaw twitched as he told her, "I will be. Just as soon as I get my hands on Angelus."





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