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APRIL 21, 2005

Spike parked the car in its usual spot. He wasn't going to go in just yet, not when the tremors were still shaking him. Angelus's black and white way of seeing the world was a dangerous thing. And, the small journal he was holding proved it could also be deadly.

At first Spike assumed that the notebook was one of Holland's tricks. That was until what Angelus said had the ring of truth in it. He wasn't sure why, but a strange sense of déjà vu seemed to thicken the air around him the longer Angel talked. He'd asked for the notes in an attempt to shake his disquiet.

The notes had the opposite effect. Reading the account of Buffy's death was vivid enough to transport him through time and helped him experience the sights and sounds and scents of it. And, the fact that Spike recognized the penmanship as his own only strengthened his resolve.

Angelus might have a fatalistic worldview, but as far as he was concerned nothing was set in stone. Time was elastic and changeable. As far as he was concerned this was a warning that Jonina Irene Dustin, whoever she was, and whomever she would still become, sacrificed herself to bring to him.

Spike took the Zippo that had served as Buffy's anchor during their lost year, and sparked the flame. As he watched the orange-red light dance against the white of the pages, turning the edges black and curling them into nothing, he sent her silent thanks.

Something inside of him seemed to jump. Suddenly his silent thanks seemed woefully inadequate, and he felt he had to give voice to the peace that seemed to wash over him, "Thank you, Dove, so much. I promise, if you need protecting, if you need anything, I'm the one to come to. Now, and forever."
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IN THE INTERREGNUM

Buffy had waited so long for this. Even though there was no such thing as time here, it seemed like years since she had seen the soft brown curls that framed the angles of his face.

It had been so long that she couldn't wait to be in his arms again, as he slowly crossed the distance between them, she rushed up to meet him and was enclosed in his strong embrace. She felt her feet float up, as he spun her in wide, happy circles. She didn't want it to stop, and now that he was back with her again, Buffy knew it never would.

"I missed you, Spike," she said, choking back the tears, "I never wanted you to leave. I understand why you did what you did, now. But I didn't then," she looked at the infinite patience shining in his eyes as he looked at her, "Joni said that's what was vexing you when you first came back. I wish I'd paid more attention to you. Maybe then, I could have spared you some pain."

As he listened to her cry, he whispered soothing words to her, "Hush, Love. We've got them back on track now," he smiled at the beautiful emerald glow of love in her eyes, "And as long as Angel doesn't fall for Holland's web of half-truths," he swallowed as the tears of reunion overwhelmed him and he gripped her tighter, "I don't ever want to leave you again."

"I did what I could," Buffy bit her lip, "to help, you know?"

Spike nodded, "I know. Without you, and Jonina the First really would have driven him mad. Toward the end he would have given up," he bowed his head, remembering the pain he'd been through, "I know I nearly did. I do wish you would have come around sooner though, but it's not your fault you were so pigheaded back then."

"Hey, can I help if I think in linear terms? I'm not the one who spent a century taking tea with Miss Edith."

"How are they, by the way?" Spike asked.

Buffy smiled, "All three of them are blissfully happy. Mother has her son again, and he finally has the perfect mate."

"That's good to know," he said, "Now where is the little minx who caused all this upheaval in the first place?"

"You mean Cordy? She's being punished for setting this all in motion," Buffy winced, "I don't even want to think about what she's going through."

Pain flashed across Spike's face, briefly, "I know something of it. But she's not the only piece of that puzzle, and you and I both know that. Hopefully we have lessoned the body count. Actually, I was referring to Joni."

"Right here, Daddy," Joni appeared, looking sheepish, "Are you mad at me?"

"Mad? No!" Spike opened his arms and took his daughter into his chest. The peace he felt at having the kind of Heaven he'd always read about, but never thought he could have, was immeasurable. All of his family was here for him to hold. And he would hold them, forever, "How could you think that," he sighed into her hair. He didn't know how it was possible, but even here she smelled of a mixture of talc and cinnamon, "How could I be mad at you for doing something that your dear old Dad would have done. I always taught you to think outside the box. Your Mum did, too. Now if I can only teach Angel to think the same way too."

"You really think Angel will listen to you?"

"He'd bloody well better. Unless he wants to count my daughter, the Slayer, as an enemy."
**********************************

NOVEMBER 1, 2030

Angel walked slowly between the silent rows of stone. A vampire should feel at home in a place like this, but he didn't. Maybe it was because the cluster of stones he was headed for now, contained names of people he knew.

The newest stone could be found under a dusting of snow. That was surprising considering the October they'd just been through here in New England. One of the worst in all recorded history, or so the newspaper touted. They said it was one of the earliest snows they'd had here in a long time.

To Angel, it just seemed typical. He knelt in front of the stone. He knew he should say something, but what could he say? What do you say to someone when he'd entrusted you with his life, his only child, and she'd been missing for over a year?

"Well, where does the time go?" a confident voice asked, "It seems like we were just here a moment ago."

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he had to use all his faculties to keep his demon at bay. He stared into the stone grey eyes, "I told you to leave me alone, Holland."

"Yes, but fortunately, I answer to a...different authority. Don't be so glum though. This place used to be full of...residents," he spread his arms wide, indicating the whole of the graveyard, "Now, there's space to spare. You should be glad."

"What are you talking about?" Angel balked, turning his attention back to the stone, "Now, if you don't mind, I'm here to make amends," his eyes went down in shame, "If I can."

"Oh, that's right," Holland sighed, "You don't know," he bit his lip in confusion and turned to look at something behind him, then turned back to look at Angel, "Or is it that you don't remember? I can never keep it straight," he shrugged his shoulders, "Oh well, that's life. Or in your case, not so much."

"Leave!"

"So be it," he said as he disappeared.

He contemplated what he would say and sighed, feeling the weight on his shoulders, "Spike, ever since you died, things have gotten bad, really bad. And, I don't know how to fix it," he felt the pressure of tears building up behind his eyes, "Now Jonina's gone, and I don't know what to do. Spike, you were always better with words," the tears spilled out and his voice broke under the weight of his failure, "What do I say to her? I used to know, but I don't know anymore. I don't know anything."
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APRIL 21, 2005

Buffy stretched her body out slowly, enjoying the smooth coolness of the sheets beneath her. The pleasing coolness and the warmth of love spreading over her, had her grinning from ear to ear, "Not that I'm complaining, but tell me one thing, "Spike."

Spike turned his head and looked at her with an impish glow in his eyes, "What would that be, Love?"

The look on his face was so open that Buffy knew she could ask him anything and she knew she'd get an honest answer. As if Spike were capable of anything else, "How is it that you make me feel like I'm the only person that matters," she suddenly became shy and felt her cheeks start to flush, "Why is it that with you I feel like I'm the only person in the world?"

The girlish blush that crept up her face sent a ping of joy sounding through him. She looked so lovely he had to reach out to touch her skin. He brushed the fingers of one hand lightly against her cheek, and let out a sigh of contentment as he felt her body hunger for his touch, "That's simple, Love," he said slowly, so that she could take in his meaning, "The reason you feel that is because that is what you are," Spike watched as Buffy's eyes widened as the depth of his meaning began to sink in, and her eyes became moist, "To me," he cleared his throat, suddenly overcome with emotion that made his voice gruff, "you are my world."

The only thing Buffy could think to do was kiss him, "Oh, Spike, I love you."
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