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NOVEMBER 1, 2030


As Angel walked through the cemetery, he wondered where he'd gone wrong. The sickness was destroying the Slayer line. So, the thing to do was to find the source of the virus, and eliminate it. That's what he was good at. When a threat came, he found it, targeted it, and killed it. Then humanity would live to see another day.

At least, that was how it was supposed to work. It had always worked that way before. Always.

Except it hadn't worked that way. His way of doing things only seemed to make things worse. He had seen the child as a threat, a genetic anomaly that must be eliminated.

Angel shook his head. Irony was a funny thing. He'd moved heaven and earth to save his own child. He even altered reality so that that child could live a more normal life, and be safe, warm and protected. But, when it came to saving the child that he saw as the agent of the Apocalypse? That was a different story.

He was now beginning to see the grey areas that Spike had been so fond of dwelling in. Only now, it was too late.

"It's never too late, Angel," Holland said, "In fact, 'The times they are a-changing.' Wasn't it Bob Dylan who said that?" at Angel's blank look, Holland continued, admiring a small telescope he carried in his hands. He held it out for Angel to look at, "Have you ever seen one of these?" he turned it over in his hands, and squinted through the glass lens at one end of the cylinder, while turning the other slowly with the fingers of his other hand, "Ingenious really. And to think it's only a child's toy," he turned the disk slightly, "Just one turn of the wrist, and everything changes. All the colors are there. Nothing's been removed, but, one twist and it all moves. It becomes something new. And the old scene, with all its colors, doesn't exist anymore. But take one little grain of sand out, and it's never the same again. No matter how many times you turn your wrist, the colors will never fall the same way twice, because something critical is missing. Sad to think that your existence comes down to child's play, isn't it?" Holland narrowed his eyes at Angel, "Or maybe it comes down to the child?" he shrugged, "Huh, just something to think about."

"What do you want?"

"Not a thing," Holland said, "Just contemplating the universe. Did you know that sand can, and does, turn into glass. All you need is sand, and a few other common minerals. Add a little heat and you've got glass. But if the right kind of sand is left out, then you end up with something else," he gestured to the field that had become a thriving necropolis, "You might end up with places like this," Holland winced at the number of tombstones, "Although, I shouldn't complain. You are keeping the Home Office very busy," his eyes widened as he remembered something he'd forgotten, "Oh," he said, "I meant to thank you," Holland smiled warmly, "I did get that promotion. And, it's all thanks to you."

The ache Angel felt came close to consuming him. Every time he felt the pain lessening a bit, over this last year, Holland would be sure to twist the knife just a little more, "Holland," his voice was tired and on the edge of giving out altogether, "I am tired. There is no way that I can change what happened. I've tried to bring her back," the tears were sliding down his face, "I tried to love her. I really did. But, it wasn't the same. Not like it was with him. And when she found out," his breath shuddered, making his shoulders quiver, "At least, when he was here..." Angel looked at the name on the stone, and his voice suddenly failed him. There was nothing but the pain now.

The stone bore the name of the one person he loved so much that it could only express itself as loathing. That was the only way he knew to express his true feelings. To show love any other way, for him, only brought pain.

Angel knew love. He knew of it. He knew what it was, but not how to feel it, "At least when he was here, I had a buffer. His love for her, and hers for him, it kept me safe from her. But when he left?" he sighed, "There was nothing. And, she hated me, so much!"

Holland knelt down and picked up a handful of dirt. Pressing it between his hands, he let it fall gently to the ground again, "What did you want, Angel? Her father was meticulous, took very good notes," Holland admired, "Even though the grief was consuming him. You didn't think you could keep the truth from her forever, did you?"

The grief contorted Angel's face into a grimace and his shoulders bowed under the weight of it, "He tried to," he gasped in desperation, "Before he..." the rest was a choked sob, "died, he told me to burn it all. He said that he was truly frightened of what she would do," Angel hid his eyes, as the images of William's last few weeks flashed through his mind.

His body had been weak and frail. But his will, oh God, his will was so strong. He was still trying to set things right. Still trying to correct a mistake that wasn't his.

The rest of his body had begun to still. As if it were trying to prepare itself for his final death. But William's eyes still flashed, defiant as ever. It seemed to Angel, at the time, as if something remained of the vampire he had been. If it were at all possible, and even if it wasn't possible, Spike wasn't going to go down, for the final time, without one Hell of a brawl.

Angel remembered, and smiled through the grief he knew Spike would have balked at, "I should have listened."

"First time for everything, I suppose," Holland smirked.
********************************

APRIL 21, 2005

Spike waited until his wife and their new charges had been fed to approach Buffy with his idea, "Love," he began shyly, unable to meet her gaze, "I don't know how clear my thinking has been of late. Recent events seem to have turned my head around a bit."

Buffy looked up from her scrambled eggs, "It didn't do a 360 did it?" she teased as she traced a circle in the air, "Because if it did, we need to run for higher ground."

The retort Spike wanted to give had to be tempered in light of the fact that, at least half of the couple under their protection had no idea what went bump in the night, and if any part of their conversations were overheard it might be difficult to explain. So, even though what was said was completely benign, the eyes said what couldn't be voiced, "You watch too many horror movies, Love."

Buffy watched as Spike's eyes and his body stance told her what he could not. He was scared, and he wanted to find out why. She chose her words carefully, "You watch just as much as I do," she nodded, telling him she understood, "Did you have nightmares again?"

"Yeah, Love," he nodded toward Talitha, whose eye widened at the sudden attention, "Seems to be going around."

Buffy nodded her head, unable to speak because of the mouthful of eggs, "I'll look after David and Talitha until you get back."

Suddenly David separated from the wallpaper he'd been part of, and spoke up, "You're going to leave us and let your wife protect us? We don't even know who this sicko is!"

Spike tried to contain the nearly maniacal laughter that was bubbling up in him because of Buffy's disgusted look, "Trust me, Mr. Sands. My wife is much stronger than she looks. In case you haven't noticed," Spike stepped back and spread his arms wide, showing the space around them, "we run a martial arts dojo," he winked at Buffy, "She works out. I'll be back soon. But until then, you are in good hands."
******************************************

The little white notebook glared up at Angel. The apocalypse that was contained within its pages hit him in a place he didn't want to admit to.

William Alistair Dustin's grief was something that pulled him into its undertow. He was drowning in it, and he would do anything he could to save himself, and Spike from it.

If that meant letting the one person that William's writings pointed to as the source of the virus, die, so be it. He would do what he needed to do to spare Spike from the pain of losing Buffy again.

Even though the pain must have been killing him, Spike painted such a vivid picture that Angel could almost feel the agony with just his words:

SEPTEMBER 21, 2022

I never thought this day would come. I never wanted it to. And, after seventeen years, somehow I thought she would escape it. Or, I thought I'd be dust again before it happened so that I wouldn't have to see it happen. I know it's selfish, but that was what I was trying to do in Sunnydale and in that blasted alley with Angelus, and countless other times. I was trying to disappear so that I wouldn't have to watch her die.

God must be laughing at me now. That is, if the wanker even exists. I watched her die today. I'm supposed to be dead. I must be, because my heart is ripped out. I thought I was dead before, all those years ago, when I let William go. I would have done it a thousand times over. I would. To have her, I would take anything Hell could dish out. I would go through it all again.

I don't even know how I'm here. Yes, I do. I have to take care of her now. She needs me. She's my soul now, my compass. Without her, the world would spin off its axis.

My world. It really is amazing. I've saved the world more than once. But now, the only thing in my world is what shattered it into a thousand shards of glass. Just looking at her is painful. She doesn't understand. I'm not sure I do. Things made more sense on the Hellmouth, when I was mad as a march hare. At least there I had my delusions to keep my mind working, keep it from seizing in agony. But now, I don't know how I'll go on.

I'm so cold.
******************

OCTOBER 8, 2002- SUNNYDALE

For an instant the world spun so fast he couldn't keep up. She was there, right in front of him. She was shimmering with the light he didn't deserve to have eyes to see. He wanted to hide his face from her. She shouldn't have to look at his unworthy face. But somehow the witch didn't see her.

He didn't think that there was anyone more unworthy than he. But it seems there was.

It was then that the world stopped spinning just long enough for him to understand. He clapped his hands, pleased that he'd solved the riddle, "Someone isn't here. 'Button, button, who's got the button?' My money's on the witch," he knew what she did, and now, he saw her gasp as he stared at her, so did she, "Red's a bad girl."
********************

IN THE INTERREGNUM

"I've tried giving her warning," Joyce said, " I even made an appearance for Dawn," she shrugged, "Nothing seems to be sinking in yet. They don't understand."

Joni smirked as an idea struck her, "That's because the recognize you, Grandma. They think you're the First," she tilted her head in thought, "They wouldn't recognize me. If I came to one of them, maybe to Daddy, it might help. And if he does know me, they won't listen to him," she frowned as she felt the pain he was going through because of her, "They think he's mad," her lips quivered, "But even if he doesn't know who I am, to me, he's still my Daddy."
******************

SEPTEMBER 24, 2002- SUNNYDALE

Joni couldn't see her hand in front of her face. That is, if she had a hand to see. But she knew her Daddy was here, she felt him. Her Daddy was here.

She heard a whimpering sound in the corner of the room. Her Daddy's voice sounded like it did after Mommy had died, "No, it's too much. It's just too much."

Jonina knelt down and looked at her father's face. His eyes were closed, but the pain of separation was etched on his face. She saw his unkempt clothing and noticed the gentle rocking motions he was using to comfort himself, and was again reminded of the first few months after Mommy had died, when Aunt Willow took him to that special "hospital" in Rome. And, it broke her heart.

Then she noticed the deep red gashes in his skin, and her eyes welled up with tears, "Daddy, did you hurt yourself?"

He looked at her with glazed eyes, "No. No one's Daddy. Not true. Not true. Not true," the words became a whispered mantra.

"I am true, Daddy. But you have to be brave because Mommy's coming."

Suddenly, there was a commotion outside the little room. Spike's head snapped up, and he moved his stiffened limbs to the door. He placed his hand on the cool, steel door. He knew who was on the other side. He felt her presence and he missed her. Oh, god, how he missed her.

The door came open with a crash, and there she stood. She blinked, and he didn't dare move, if he moved she would disappear again. Was she real?

Then an angel whispered, "Spike, are you real?"

And he laughed because he knew he wasn't.
*************************

APRIL 21, 2005

He'd spent the wee hours of the morning lost in a world of little girl grief. Her little journal was the only thing that tied him to her. It was the only thin he had of her, and that was because of Angelus.

Spike had a strange feeling that Angelus knew more than he let on.

Angelus had the answers. So, it was time to see the wizard.

Spike knocked on the door, "Angelus, we need to talk. I've got questions, and it seems, you might have the answers I need."
*****************





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