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Author's Chapter Notes:
Some of my readers are honored in this chapter. *I think you'll know who you are;-) * Please review.
OCTOBER 13, 2005

As Spike raced toward the hospital, the nightmares came rushing back, leaving painful, bright phosphorescent trails in their wake.

The echo of her tiny heartbeat filled his head. Over the months, Talitha and Buffy and he had bounded. Maybe that was because they all shared something that David Sands couldn't understand. And maybe that was the reason David never trusted him. He could relate. But he was trying to protect the child. She was important, and by extension, so was he. All that David could see was another man moving in on his girls.

Oh, how he could relate.

And because David Sands didn't trust him, he never followed his advice, no matter how well founded. Because of that, he never listened to his warnings about going out alone at night. Spike had tried to assure him that his cautions were in no way an indictment on his manhood. If he loved his wife and child he would keep himself safe.

But, that advice seemed to fall on deaf ears. Now he was hoping that what Angel had told Georgina wasn't true, because if it were then he would have to inform the widow, and the stress could be dangerous for both of them. He already knew that, for a Slayer, Talitha had a delicate constitution. There was something off about her scent. Perhaps it was her impending motherhood that he was sensing.

Spike hoped that he was overreacting, but somehow he knew he wasn't. He hoped that David hadn't been killed, and he hoped that Angelus wasn't responsible, but Spike knew he was.

As he pulled in front of the hospital, Spike was grateful that the sun set early in October, this way he wouldn't have to worry about his "allergy," as Buffy liked to call it, while in polite company. But, if it came down to that little baby's well being, he wouldn't have cared if it were high noon on the hottest day of the year, he was going to find Angelus.

Spike strode quickly through the sliding glass doors, briefly glancing at the volunteers, in their smocks, who sat at the front desk. He could sense Angelus the second he walked in the doors, so there was no need to waste time asking questions of people who didn't understand what went on right under their noses. Besides, Spike was fairly certain that his purposeful steps and baleful countenance made anyone who might have attempted to slow him down, allow him a wide berth.

Spike headed straight to the small room that served as the hospital chapel, but then thought better of it. Angelus could wait. He had to make a stop at the morgue.
***********************

Heather wanted to be a doctor. But everyone had to start somewhere, and for her the starting point was working the evening shift in the County Hospital's morgue.

Most people her age wouldn't take this job. But she didn't mind. It was quiet and no one bothered her. So when someone who was quite obviously not a hospital employee appeared, it was a red-letter day.

"Miss," he said, "I know this normally isn't permitted," Spike lowered his lashes bashfully and said, "but, you see, I was hoping to pay my last respects to my cousin. I just got the news, and I can't quite believe it," he choked, "Was hoping it wasn't true. Do you have someone by the name of David Sands here?"

Heather wasn't sure why, but there was something in his eyes that made her trust him, "I really shouldn't even let you be here," she said, "I should be calling security. But," her eyes drifted sideways in thought, "I'm about to go on my coffee break. I'll be back in ten minutes," she left the clipboard with the manifest on her desk while getting up to go to the break room, "If you're still here when I get back," she nodded as their eyes met, "I'll have to call security,"

"Understood," Spike said.

The manifest said that David Sands was in drawer number three. He quickly strode over and opened it, reverently pulling back the sheet that covered the body. He closed his eyes in shock and frustration as he peered down into the unnaturally serene face of David Sands.

"Oh, no," he breathed.
**********************

Holland admired the small room. Even though the room was not exposed to natural light, it was still illuminated in soft muted colors due to the beautifully painted heavy glass windows.

He was very comfortable here. He knew that places like this were often incubators for troubled souls.

The hunched figure casting a long shadow in the corner was a case in point. Holland quietly slid in beside him, "Honestly Angel, I don't know why you chose to hide here. I mean," his eyes glanced up to admire the prisms of light that traced ribbons across the room, "places like this can be real bonanzas for the Home Office. They're like battlefields," he shrugged, "This is the one place were the Home Office and the Higher Ups tend to meet, and more often then not, this is where they clash. So, why do you hide here, when you knew I'd find you?"

In this place of light, his face was cast in shadow and his voice was heavy with fatigue, "I have nowhere else to be. This is the one place where I know where I stand. And, I need that, even if I'm not welcome here. At least here, things aren't so grey," Angel sighed, "At least here, things make sense."

"I understand," Holland said, "You know he'll think that you had something to do with this, don't you?"

Angel heaved a sigh, "I'm almost counting on it," his brows creased with the stress he was feeling, "Spike is bound and determined to see this thing through no matter what I say. And I don't think that I can stand by and watch him disintegrate," his voice seemed very old, "He's going to learn that a champion can't be everywhere at once. He'll learn that if you bond with them, it only hurts more when you realize that you can't save them. It's better that he learn that now, before he bonds with that child."

Holland smiled wistfully, "Spike is a rambunctious youngster, isn't he? It really is remarkable how he never saw the glass as half empty. With him, it's always half full," he nodded his head in admiration, "I really have to hand it to him. He really is a plucky sort, isn't he?"

Angel shook his head in resignation, "And when he loses everything that's important to him? When the sandcastles he builds are crushed by the waters of grief, what then?"

"My," Holland was surprised, "waxing poetic, and about Spike? He would be proud."

"I don't want him to be like me. But, in order to save him from," his shoulders sagged as he leaned forward, "becoming me I have to make sure something he already loves ceases to exist. If I do what I know I have to, Spike eats himself away with anger. If I don't do this, he falls deeper and deeper in love with Buffy, if that's even possible, and becomes an instrument of humanity's destruction because of his grief and inaction."

Holland nodded in commiseration, "Welcome to the bog that the ethereal dwell in. Believe me, where I am, where the Higher Ups are, there is never a dull moment. It's like waiting on line at the Baskin Robins. The menu board is full of choices and we're all waiting to see what the flavor of the moment is, literally. And, it's all up to you and your choices. It's like dominos down here," Angel was surprised at the exasperated tone in Holland's voice. It was almost as if he actually cared how things came out down here, "One choice impacts another. And we can't tell any of you which one will cause what outcome. It really is up to the people who live down here to make it better. Or to leave it be, that is up to you."
*******************

IN THE INTERREGNUM

Joyce addressed the Spirit with respect, "Yes, they are interesting, aren't they? They're diamonds in the rough. But, I tried to tell you that."

"You did, child. It seems that we may have to reevaluate his status in light of this new development," the Spirit gently chastised her, "Although, we still disapprove of your methods."

She shrugged, "What can I say, I take after my son-in-law."

Jubilant pearls of laughter that were closely followed by Joyce being swept off of her feet by a very excited Spike, "Mum," interrupted the dialog between the beings, " What did you do? I still can't believe it! How did you do it? They told me, but I didn't want to believe it."

Joyce hugged him back, "Believe it. This is the place of miracles, didn't they tell you?" she smiled slyly at him, "Holland is just a gnat in the ointment. Up here, we take up for the underdog, and here you have more of us pulling for you than you know."

Joyce smiled as she heard him squeak, "Really?"

She nodded, reveling in how boyish he was, "Yep. With all due respect to that poof of a Grandsire, there are countless legions of angels in your corner, Spike. Ones you don't even know about. That's why Wolfram and Hart wanted to keep you under their thumb. They were afraid of what you would do if you weren't watched. They still are."

"Poof?" his eyes sparkled with mirth, "Joyce, I love you."
*************************************

Spike quietly slipped into the hospital chapel and found Angel sitting in a corner, "Keeping in mind where we are, Angelus, I will try to keep this simple," Angel looked up to see amber eyes staring back at him, "I know what you told George. I'm here to make certain that you had nothing to do with it."

"Have you been to the morgue?"

"Yes," he hissed, "and if I find out you had anything to do with it, we will have problems. You had better hope that the news does not send mother and baby into a shock that could endanger the baby," his head pivoted menacingly, "Are we clear?"

Angel nodded.
*******************

On the ride back to the dojo, Spike wondered what he would say to her. Over the months, Talitha had opened up to him. He knew all her hopes and fears. She even made sure that he and Buffy were made the tot's legal guardians should something untoward happen to her or her husband, effectively naming Buffy and him the baby's parents.

The weight of the news bowed his shoulders, as he met Buffy at the door. He didn't even have to open his mouth. She knew. It screamed through his eyes.

His shock was mirrored in Buffy's slack-jawed expression and her whispered, "Oh no," as she grasped him tightly, giving Spike the strength he would need to tell Talitha that she was a widow now, "I'll try and prepare her, Spike. Are you all right?"

"No," he confessed. He didn't know if he would ever be all right again.





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