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NOVEMBER 1, 2030

All Spike had really wanted to do was protect his family, which at the time consisted of only Buffy and Dawn. Angel understood the impulse. And unfortunately, so did Holland Manners. Holland Manners was perhaps the only one who truly understood his impulse to hold on to things with an iron fist. It was only now, after he'd lost everything, and everyone who ever held any meaning for him, that Angel understood that if you wanted to hold those you loved close, you couldn't use an iron fist. If you did, the fine crystal that you loved was often crushed to bits of ground glass that would end up cutting the fist that held it, to ribbons.

Watching that baby grow inside that woman made him ache. What hurt even worse was watching Spike and Buffy bonding with the child. And, he had already sacrificed so much to keep Connor safe. In an existence full of killing innocents, some, like Winifred Burkle, were killed to satisfy a higher purpose. Or so he thought, at the time.

He couldn't explain his reasons then because no one would have understood. And he certainly couldn't justify them now. Not to him, and defiantly not to her.

All she knew now was grief. And to her, he was the reason for that grief.

He contemplated what he would say. Taking an unneeded breath, he started with the basics, "Well, here I am again, although I'm really not sure why. I tried to explain things to Joni and," he couldn't even bring himself to speak her name, "her. Joni was so angry," he shook his head in astonishment, smiling a little at the person who had seemed to flash in her eyes, just briefly, "So much like you," he mused, "for an instant, I could have sworn her face changed. And, her head tilted in just that way. She saw it too. I heard her gasp. Joni took that cigarette lighter of yours, lit the flame," Angel chuckled, "Do you know, I think she really might have used it. She told me that if I ever came near her, or her mother, again, I'd know what her Daddy felt in that alley. She asked me what I thought would have happened if you had taken my advice. I told her I didn't know."

And he really didn't.

He still remembered the conversation very well, even all these years later:
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APRIL 21, 2005

"Spike, it's really not a good idea to bond with it."

" 'It?' 'It' is a child. An innocent. Why wouldn't I?"

Angel sighed, "Because it will die. They all will, eventually," his eyes became hooded in shame, "Even Buffy."

"I know that," Spike ground out, hurt, "and I hope she's wrinkled and old and," his head tilted as he smirked, "still kicking your ass, Peaches."

"If it's born, Spike. If it's allowed to live, Buffy will die. And she'll die sooner rather than later."

Spike shook his head as if he were witnessing the most pathetic sight he'd ever seen, "You. How did you ever survive this long? Or, maybe you're the ghost, rattling around this wide, wonderful world, in touch with nothing and no one? Is that how it was so easy to go from crusader to megalomaniac in one short year?"

"You know," Angel said, "I think I've heard this argument before."

Spike laughed low in his throat, "Been down this road before, have we?" he bit the inside of his cheek in thought, his eyes floating to the ceiling, "Slow on the uptake then, are you? Maybe you should have listened. Maybe then you wouldn't be asking me to stand by and watch you do something that, only a few years ago, the 'Champion' would have waded neck deep into holy water to prevent," he exhaled in frustration, hissing through his teeth, "Jesus Christ, Angel! I may have hated your self-righteous attitude, Angelus, but I respected the effort. I could, and still can, respect a worthy adversary. But you're not, anymore. Now, you're just an enemy," Spike picked up the small journal as he turned to leave, "Even without the soul that you seem to prize so highly, I pity you. But," he warned, "If you go near that child, I will kill you. Fair warning, Angelus."
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Yes, he remembered that conversation very well. The fire in his eyes was something Angel did not want to see extinguished, and he knew that if Buffy died, all the people that he knew Spike would help would lose a Champion. Even if Holland hadn't told him what Buffy's death would do to him, Angel knew.

Spike was a visceral creature. Everything he experienced he internalized. Everything he went through became a part of him. This tendency made him good in a fight, but he usually never saw the forest for the trees. He never saw the big picture.

And although Angel would never say so out loud, the big picture was that Spike was the only thing left that he loved. He wasn't going to see him hurt.

He looked askance at the tombstone, its carved lettering seemingly mocking him, "I know. I know I should have listened to you. My attempts at saving you from the kind of pain I'd been through only bonded the two of you to her tighter. Until it became impossible for you, or Buffy to do what had to be done, and because of that you only saw one way out. That way, it did save her," Angel nodded slightly, as if the wind had whispered to him how obvious his statement had been, "Which I know was what you wanted. It's what I wanted too. Your unconventional thinking did save quite a few Slayers, Buffy included. But I forgot to tell them about the Shanshu. So, when Buffy lost her husband, and Jonina lost her Daddy? Well, as you can imagine, they were very angry when they found out I knew about this, and didn't tell them. And since you weren't around to punch in the nose, they took it out on me, and rightly so," he choked back a sob, "They weren't the only ones who lost something when you died, you know, Spike. You helped me save one son. But I lost someone I thought of as a son," he smiled wryly, "Or as close to one as I want to admit. I lost you."
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OCTOBER 13, 2005

George picked up the phone, "Synergy Dojo, may I help you? We're running a pre-Halloween sale this week. Buy six lessons, get the seventh one free of charge," her eyes squinted in surprise and she switched to her hands free headset, and moved her wheelchair lightning fast in an effort to catch their attention, "Angel, why are you calling here? What?" she tore the headset off of her head, in one brutal swipe, and screamed, "Spike!! Where is David?"

The terror in her voice had him rushing through the maze of workout rooms to the front desk, "What is it?"

She pointed to her discarded headset, "That was Angel. Don't ask me how he knew, but he was calling from the hospital. David...he was mugged...Stabbed. He's dead."

"What?" came Talitha's anguished cry.

In the blink of an eye Spike was behind the wheel of the Desoto, calling out to Buffy and Talitha as he rushed to the car, "Talitha, stay here. I'll check it out. Buffy, use your stake if you need to. I'll call you when I know anything!" with that, the car sped off in the direction of the hospital.
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