2029

Joni walked her usual route. The night air was getting crisp, and she'd left home without her gloves. Her fingers were turning pink from the cold. Not even blowing on them seemed to take the chill out. Even though her legs were moving at a brisk pace in a desperate effort to get her to the safety of her warm bed, the chill of the November frost had already seeped onto her bones. There was no escaping it.

It was so cold out here that even her breath was freezing into an ice cloud and shattering into a thousand fragments on the air.

Maybe what was chilling her wasn't the weather at all. Maybe she just missed her Daddy. Little girls did that sometimes, didn't they? They sometimes missed their Daddies, even when the little girls weren't so little anymore.

Joni missed her Daddy, very much. It had been two years since he'd gone away, and it still hurt her heart like it had happened yesterday. For some reason she couldn't say the word, "death" when it came to describing what happened to him. She could think it just fine. She just couldn't say it. So, for her, he had just, "gone away." He wasn't dead. Death just seemed so, permanent. That just couldn't happen to her Daddy. Not again.

Joni missed her Daddy so much. But the thing she missed most about him was the first thing that she knew was his. As a baby, she had been soothed to sleep by the gentle rolling thunder that his voice had been for her. And now that it was silent again, like it had been after her Mom died, isn't it funny how a word she couldn't even utter in relation to her Daddy just seemed to roll off like water when it came to her Mom, she really did miss it.

The first thing Joni ever had a conscious memory of was her Daddy's voice. He would sing her to sleep at night. Usually with old songs no one heard anymore. Not even on the classics band on the radio. She loved his voice. It was made up of rumble and softness and purring, like a big cat. But, it could be loud as a thunderclap when her Daddy needed to protect her or her Mom.

Her Mom, she was small and delicate, like her Daddy was. But she was strong too. She was what they used to call a Slayer; at least that's what her Daddy said she was.

But that was before the sickness came and took her. It took all the Slayers. One by one, until none were left but her. One Slayer. Just like in the beginning.

When Mom left, Daddy's rumble got quiet, too quiet. And he didn't sing anymore. Not even for her. Joni wondered if her Daddy blamed her for her Mom's death. After all, Mom got sick and she hadn't. The sickness hadn't even touched her. Somewhere deep down, Joni blamed herself for her Mom's death, so why shouldn't her Daddy do the same?

Joni remembered one conversation very well. Brian McCoy had called her a stupid name, because of her birthmark. She'd come home crying to her Daddy. She was twelve at the time, and her Daddy did what all good Daddies do when their daughters cry. He threatened to beat him up. Then, they sat down, he dried her tears, and they started talking about things that really mattered:

"So," he grinned, "how bloody do you want him? Schoolhouse tussle, or British football enthusiast?"

Joni stared at him, wide eyed, "But Daddy you can't!"

"Oh, but I can, Dove," he assured her, "Brian McCoy hurts my little girl, you bet I'm going to set him to rights about it! Especially when he hurts my girl over something that's none of her doing," he smiled, seeing that the threats of violence, even ones he had no intention of carrying out, had had their desired effect. She'd stopped crying, "And it's fun too."

"No!"

"All right," he relented, "For you, I'll let him go. But, just this once, if there's a next time, all bets are off. What was it he said to you that upset you like this?"

"He made fun of my freckles," she pouted.

He'd tilted his head the way he always did when he knew she wasn't telling him everything, "Not just your freckles. Am I right, Dove?" he indicated his cheek, mirroring where her birthmark was, "This was about your mark, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

His voice took on a stern tone. A tone he rarely used with her, "Jonina Dustin," he said, taking her by the hand out to the hall mirror, "I want to show you something."

"No Daddy. I don't want to look." She hated mirrors, and he knew this. It wasn't because she thought herself homely. She thought she was rather pretty, even if she didn't look like the ones she called her Mom and Daddy. They were the ones who'd raised her, ever since her parents had been killed by a vampire when she was three months old; they were her Mom and Dad, in every way that really mattered. No, there was another reason she hated mirrors. She hated them because she couldn't see her Daddy when she looked into one. She could see herself, but not him. And, that made her sad.

"I know you don't want to look," Spike said as he turned her to face the mirror, "but humor your old Dad, all right? Now, what do you see?"

She stomped her foot, "Me, with a big purple splotch on my face," she said petulantly.

Spike shook his head, a bit amused at how much like her she really was, "So much like your Mother. What else do you see?"

Her eyes welled up with tears, "I know what I don't see," she choked, "You. I don't see Mom, either, and I think that's so unfair!" she turned to face him, "Do you hate me, Daddy?"

Spike was shocked, "Hate you? Why would I do that, Dove?"

"For taking Mom away."

"That wasn't your fault! Never even think that." His brows furrowed and he held her tightly, "Do you understand me? I could never hate you," he shook his head again and whispered, "I could never hate you. Not you."

"But he hates me."

He could tell by the look in her eyes that they weren't talking about a schoolyard infatuation. Somehow her little girl logic had brought up something that was hurtful to her, and distasteful to him, "Now we're talking on a subject you shouldn't be worrying your pretty ringlets over. He's not worth the breath it takes to worry over. He's not even worth mine. So no talk of that, now."
****************************

That was when she was twelve. She was seventeen now. And, she was an orphan again. She hated him for that. For two years that was all she had in her. It was all she knew.

She knelt down in front of his marker, cleared the dry leaves away from the stone, and touched the letters lovingly, "Daddy, it's me. It's your 'Little Dove.' I'm sorry I haven't been by for a visit lately. But I've been busy. I thought I'd say goodnight to you before I head home. You'd be upset with me. I went out without my gloves again." She could almost hear the wind bellowing his response, "I know, I know. I'd forget my head if it wasn't on my neck. I promise, it won't happen again. And I also promise that somehow, some way, Angelus is going to pay for what he did to you and Mom."
***********************


Willow was having some trouble tracking Joni without being seen. Joni was a creature of habit. Just like her father had been. She was out the door for her nightly patrols precisely at dusk and she was back just before the first blush of sunlight. Impeccable timing. Like a Swiss watch. It wasn't that Willow didn't know where Jonina was; she did, at all times. It was just that Willow wasn't seventeen anymore. She wasn't the one fueled by grief and anger and loss, at least not now. There had been a time in her life when that would have described her to a tee. And because Willow knew what it was like to feel that, because she knew what it was to be that destructive, she feared what Joni would do.

And before he died, Spike had that exact same fear. That was why he'd made Willow promise him that Joni would never find out. Willow promised that she would watch out for Joni and keep her safe. And that was why she was out here, a woman well passed the age where staying out all night is any kind of fun, crouching in the cold and trying not to be seen by a girl who could smell the wind change directions before it even had the chance to think about changing.

Joni had somehow doubled back and Willow was heaving breaths trying to keep her in sight. She heaved a few breaths, hissing, "Did you have to train her so well, Spike? I'm getting way too old for this," she looked up at the canopy of stars twinkling above her, "And I know what happened to both you and Buffy is kind of my fault," she winced as her lungs burned trying to supply the air that she needed to keep up with her niece, "Okay, so it is my fault. But Buffy could have let me in on the fact that you were her ace in the hole, literally. Then we might not have done that spell. But who knew you were gonna go all hero? And then a few years latter, 'Wunderkind' of yours comes down from the planet Krypton, and everything goes kerboom?" she took a moment to catch her breath and to try and sort through her latest babble. She only did this kind of thing when she was worried, "And I've been talking to Andrew way too much," she looked at the blinking starlight, "haven't I? Sorry. Back in surveillance mode now."
*************************************

This was like playing hide- and- go- seek for Joni. But, unfortunately it wasn't nearly as much fun playing cat and mouse with her aunt as it had been with her Daddy. If she didn't have an objective, she would have slowed down so that aunt Willow could catch her. But she couldn't do that tonight. This was too important. And it was her only chance. She didn't care about the consequences, she really didn't.
**********************

She had tried to tell her Daddy that she was ready. She tried to remind him that she was the same age Mom was when she became the Slayer. And that he had taught her everything he knew about fighting.

He just smiled, pleased with her confidence in both his ability to impart wisdom and appreciating her own surety, "Yes, Joni I know you're strong. But the Watcher seems to think that you are key to an as yet unknown apocalypse. And George, she's a smart one. I'm obliged to take her at her word."

"But Daddy," she begged, "You're not as strong as before. You can't do what you used to do. If you go out there a bus could hit you. I have to protect you now. That's my job now, Daddy. I'm the Slayer."

He'd just rolled his eyes at her, "Thank you for reminding me that this humanity thing doesn't come with a warranty," he sighed, looking at her with eyes that seemed to see past her, "I thought I wouldn't need one. Certainly never thought I would regret snatching the brass ring from Angelus's claws. But, you see, I've never had a daughter before, and I never thought I could love anyone more than I loved," he cleared his throat, overcome with emotion, "love your Mum. But, it seems I was wrong."

"Daddy don't..."

"You see, this prize? It comes with a catch. Limited shelf life; and there's no telling how far away the use by date is. So it seems that I've just proven the old adage. You do always want what you haven't got. I need time, but it seems that I'm running short, so I have to make you as strong as you can be so that you can fly without me, Dove. Because, some day the world's going to need you, just as much as I do, and you have to be ready to fight."

The only way Joni could express what she felt for her Daddy at that moment was to hug him. There were no words big enough to show him what he meant to her.

Joni neared the clearing in the park. There was the gazebo, just where they said it was. It looked just like her mind thought it would when it drew pictures of it from the bedtime stories they used to tell her. It was like stepping into her very, own real life, fairy tale. Only when she was a baby they didn't tell her that her own Mom and Daddy were the prince and princess.

She didn't find that out until much later, when the fairy tale took her Daddy and Mom away.

Joni approached the gazebo with all the ingredients she needed for the spell. It had been tough trying to sneak the things she needed past her aunt Willow, but she'd done it. Aunt Willow had spent months trying to talk her out of this. She tried to tell her it was wrong, that there were better ways, healthier ways to deal with the pain of losing someone you loved. But she knew her aunt was a hypocrite. Her aunt wasn't one who went through pain very well. Aunt Willow knocked pain down and stomped on its face. Then when she caught up with the person who'd caused her pain, the person who'd killed the one she had loved, she skinned him alive.

But, she didn't stop there. No, she had to kill the world.

Joni didn't want to kill the world. She just wanted to see her Daddy again. Really see him. Maybe then the pain and the hurting she'd been feeling for two years would ease some.

She sat in the small circle of candles and started to pray, "Nepthys, grant a daughter passage from the is to what has been. Grant the way that the grief will cease and loved ones passed will be present once more. I offer myself a supplicant to you. Please grant me passage."

Just as the wind started to pick up, she saw a vortex open up in front of her. It was composed of green and blue light, swirling together and meeting at a point where nothing existed. Beyond that point where the two met, there was nothing. That was the point where two times became one, where there was no past and no future, only one way. That was the vanishing point. Beyond that point, her Daddy still existed, even if she did not. But without her Mom and Daddy she felt she could not exist.

So, just as she heard her aunt's anguished pleas for her to turn around, for her to stop, she stepped forward and let the light swirl around her and pull her inward. She let it guide her to the vanishing point.

As Willow watched Joni disappear in the light, she sobbed, her voice barely distinguishable from the great, howling wind, "God, Spike, I'm sorry!" she cried, knowing that she had failed to do the one thing he had begged her to do.

As the light encompassed her, she realized too late that her aunt Willow might have been right. Maybe the reaches of space and time would punish her for stepping outside of where she belonged. Perhaps every being did have a certain time and place in which they fit in the universe. Perhaps there was only one time, one moment when the world bends to their will and becomes putty in the hand. And she realized that that time might indeed be finite and measurable.

Joni thought that maybe she'd overstepped the invisible boundary, because the instant she felt herself being pulled into the apex of her spell, her body felt like it was being ripped open at the seams. It could be that the universe was trying to tell her that this wasn't the place for her, this time. It may have been that her aunt Willow was right, just this once.

A scream tore from her throat, but it could not be heard. The vacuum of time had snuffed out the sound, and the thought that made it, before it had even had a chance to begin.
**************************

IN THE INTERREGNUM

He was up and pacing again. Buffy tried to calm him, but she knew that that was like trying to calm a whirlwind, "Spike, if you don't calm down they're not going to let you in. I couldn't bear it if I had to be without you," for the first time since her arrival here, she felt like crying, "Please don't make me do this without you. You came all this way. I'm so proud of you. Please calm down."

"So this is purgatory, being omnipresent and still not being able to help? Her blaming herself nearly broke my heart the first time around. If I have to watch this happen to her again... Love, I just can't do it."

"Spike, she doesn't understand. She didn't know. All she knew is she missed her Daddy," Buffy hugged Spike as his head pressed into her neck, "I'm sure you remember how that felt. Here, the years go by so fast, I still feel like I just left you. But, I know that you were so long without me. Five years felt like an eternity, didn't it?"

He nodded, the tears he shouldn't be shedding, not when he was finally with her again, obscuring his vision of her.

"Spike, you were over a hundred years old. Joni's just a little girl. She's seventeen, Spike. Two years without her Daddy? Trust me," she smiled, wiping his tears, "for a Slayer, that's forever. Add on the fact that she's also a little girl who had her Daddy wrapped around her little finger from the first time he laid eyes on her, and that's forever plus one."

"I know Love, it's just that I feel so helpless here. I should be doing something. I told Red to watch out for her. Turns out you can't send a witch to do a vampire's job."

"We could tell Cordy," Buffy offered, "she could get word to Angel. She's still on probation because of that whole Circle thing. But there could be an exception."

"No, absolutely not! I will not let that overzealous berk near my baby girl!"

"Then how do we help her?"

Spike shook his head in thought, "If only there were some way to..." his eyes brightened with hope and mischief, "That's it!"

"What Spike?"

"I've got an Idea, Love," he smiled, holding her tight as she looked into his face, "It won't be pretty. In fact, it's gonna hurt a lot."

Buffy smiled, "I guess this is one of those times a borrowed soul really comes in handy, huh?"

"...But, if this works, I can have you, and my baby girl. And, Red won't have to go through years of guilt over her part in teetering the balance. I need to talk to your Mum."
***********************************

MARCH 22, 2005

Spike couldn't believe he wasn't dreaming. She was here, and she was his. It was all still a blur. Had she really married him?

He let air into his lungs. The scent of her washed over him, and he could hear her steady heartbeat and the hush of her breath. But, even though his superior senses told him she was indeed there with him, he knew from experience that, when it came to something he wanted with all of his heart, sometimes his senses could lie to him. They could lie to him with surprising ease and skill, especially when it came to her. That was why he'd lain there, for what seemed like hours, awash in her warmth and her scent, and he still couldn't find the courage to open his eyes.

He didn't think his heart could take it if all of this had been a lie. He moaned a little at the thought. What was it she had said about removing a bandage? Best to do it fast, then it's over quickly with a minimum of pain. He didn't want to tear the bandage off of his heart, but he had to.

So, he opened his eyes.

In the dim light of the room, he saw the delicate outline of the wedding gown she wore. The fabric was as light as a snowflake and sparkled in the light that only he could see. He saw the bottle of champagne, still on ice, on the table inside his small flat.

The fact that the bottle was more than three quarters down, could well be the explanation for the rather pleasant buzz he had around him. He wasn't near drunk, just pleasantly numb.

He shifted slightly and rose up on his elbow so that he could look down at her sleeping face in the pre-dawn light. He knew that they would have to find somewhere new to be. This was a warrior's living space. This was no place for a husband and it was definitely no place for a wife. The bed alone was woefully inadequate. But at the time, it was enough. After all, he wasn't going to entertain any visitors, was he? But now, if his wife hasn't been so petite, there would be no room for her to sleep comfortably.

And, there it was. The word. Wife. He had a wife. He looked down at his hand, and the small silver band confirmed that this was no dream because when he saw her small hand there was the circle's twin. The band was small, delicate and perfect, just as she was, and it confirmed the miracle. She was his, and he belonged to her, now and always.

He brushed his knuckles against the skin of her cheek. The skin was soft as rose petals and glowed with an inner light. The kind of light that he'd never seen before, but he hoped would never leave. It would be his job to keep the flame inside of her alive. It was his job to keep her safe. A job he took on willingly, and one he would never quit.

He whispered softly in her ear, knowing that somewhere in the space between sleeping and wakefulness, she would hear him, "I love you Buffy. I really love you."
*****************************

IN THE INTERREGNUM

"Joyce, I need your help. There's no way I can stop Jonina from doing this thing, but I can give some warning so that it doesn't blindside them. The first time around, by the time I pinpointed the source of the illness, it was too late for Buffy, and I loved her too much to see her hurt. I tried to tell her that I loved her. That it wasn't her fault," he paused, reliving the hurt of his heart, his little girl, " But the grief, it eclipsed everything else. And by the time I worked through it, no amount of hugs and kisses. No amount of love could convince her that I did. Love her. That can't happen this time. I can't let it. I need...some kind of warning."

Joyce nodded sympathetically, "I know how you feel, Spike. I think I know how to help you."
******************************

As he slept with his wife in his arms, for some reason, Spike dreamt of flying doves.

MARCH 22, 2005

Joni's body was screaming. Every nerve was on fire. She had never felt pain like this before. Not even a jump into Hell would be close to what she was feeling now. She breathed in. The air burned her throat like acid, but at least she had a throat, and a nose. So maybe she'd gotten lucky, and the forces she'd called upon to bring her here, wherever that was, hadn't decided to boomerang her back through the rift she'd made with that spell.

Maybe. But somehow, Joni knew that the reason she wasn't a bit of smear on the cosmic windshield was because of him. He was still watching out for her, even from the nether realms. She opened her eyes to darkness, which meant either she had been blinded by the shock she had subjected her body to, or she was dead. She really hoped that wasn't the case. She tried to sit up and felt asphalt under her. That probably meant a city of some sort and judging from the lack of starlight, probably a big one. Maybe even Los Angeles.

Then again, she could be completely wrong. She could be on the other side of the planet. Or she could be on another planet, in another dimension. Somewhere she and her Mom and Daddy didn't exist at all. And that would really suck.

If she made it this far though, she knew that her Daddy was looking out for her. Knowing him, he was probably angry enough to spit nails at her. But she knew that no matter how mad he got at her, he always loved her.

He didn't think she knew that, but she did. And right now that knowledge was a comfort to her. It was the only comfort she had, because her body seemed to explode with fire when she tried to move and the fuzziness of unconsciousness was pulling at her. It demanded her obeisance. Her last thought before she succumbed to its will, was that somehow her Daddy had to find her, he had to know.
*******************************

The dreams had made him restless. He didn't know what they meant, but they filled him with a sense of foreboding. It was like seeing your own agonizing death, and that didn't make for a good night's rest, wedding notwithstanding.

But that wasn't the worst of it. No, the worst was the little girl. Oh, God, the sound she was making! He didn't think he'd ever forget it, even if he survived another millennia. And the look in those big brown, saucer eyes of hers, if his heart weren't already dead that alone would have killed it. Whoever this girl was mourning, and that's all he could describe it as, she must have thought of that person very dearly.

This wasn't the first time he'd had this dream, either. They'd started the night Drusilla was staked. And they were steadily getting worse. It was as if something was trying to warn him about another apocalypse. At first, he'd thought it was just stress manifesting itself. Imagine that, a vampire under so much stress that he's having nightmares. And the stuff of a vampire's nightmares would put any Hollywood creature feature to shame. Now he just wished they would leave him the bloody Hell alone. This was his wedding night, after all. One night wasn't too much to ask, was it? Just one night without ghouls and monsters, so he could focus on more important things, like being a husband to his wife?

But no, it seems that that was not to be. Not for them anyway, for two reasons he could think of, just off the cuff. One, being that he was a monster himself, so no help there, and two because tonight had been the worst one yet.

Most of the time he woke up to just a fogy memory. But, tonight was different. It was still so vivid in his mind that he could almost reach out and touch the little girl's hair. He could still hear her cries ringing in his ears. And he could still see her eyes. Oh God, her eyes.

He remembered those eyes as he sat down to try and sketch what he could remember. And, he remembered something else as well. A mark, almost like a port wine stain, was on her cheek. The particulars were lost in the fog of sleep, but as his pencil glided along the paper, a shape began to form.

What stared up at him from the small scrap of paper resembled a bird in flight.

There was a tiny mewling sound from the bed, "Spike, come back to bed," her voice was slurred from sleep and alcohol, "What's got you up anyway?" she asked. More alert now, she sat up and squinted at him as he was hunched over the small table, "After all that, even you should be a little sleepy," she yawned.

"Sorry Love didn't mean to wake you. I had that dream again," he shook his head trying to clear his mind of the images, "And this time, I can't seem to shake it."

Buffy put on her robe and went over to where Spike was sitting. She put her hand on his shoulder, trying to give him some comfort. She knew these dreams disturbed him because some nights she would have them too. Fortunately tonight she had been spared the imagery. But, it seems, Spike hadn't been so lucky, "That girl again?" she asked, looking at the sketches he'd made.

"Yeah," he confirmed, "Only now there's this," he said, showing her the drawing of the bird.
*********************************

IN THE INTERREGNUM

"Spike, don't be too hard on her," Buffy pleaded, "She wasn't trying to make things worse. And now, because of you and Mom, she may even be able to help."

"I know that, Love. But, he... I mean I..." Spike rolled his eyes in frustration, "Oh, I'm never going to get used to being everywhere at once!" he looked down into his wife's laughing eyes, "Go ahead and laugh now, Misses. Did you ever get used to it?"

She shook her head, "No. In fact it still makes my head spin a little."

"Well, that makes me feel ever so much better," he kissed her lightly, "The point is, I'm not ready to handle another apocalypse right now. She managed to land herself right in the middle of our wedding night, for God's sake!"

"Spike..." Buffy warned.

"Sorry Love, but the girl's got to learn that there are boundaries. She has to know that she can't just..."

"And when did you learn this lesson, oh wise one?" Buffy smiled.

"I was hoping she wouldn't use me as a template, Love. I'll do what I can. And, I'll try not to be too hard on her."

"Good."

"I won't make any promises."

"I know," Buffy smiled as she watched him walk away, "You old softy, you."
*****************

As the car drove slowly up and down the night covered streets, he grumbled, just a little, at their predicament," I can't believe we're doing this. And on our wedding night, of all the nights."

"And, 'of all the gin joints, she had to walk into yours'", Buffy teased, good-natured, "Play it again, Humphrey. But look on the bright side. Maybe we're starting a new tradition. You know, like my birthday?"

The look Spike gave Buffy was as sharp as a knife, "Love, have you forgotten how disastrous your birthdays can be? Don't even think it!"

"Oh come on," she teased, "It could be fun. And this way you'll never have an excuse for forgetting our anniversary!"

Spike knew it was hopeless to argue. And what's more, he didn't want help, not for this. This was something he hoped he'd always have. He loved her so, "All right Love. Keep an eye out for anything that looks out of place."

"You mean, other than a frantic husband and wife, who just happen to be a vampire and a vampire slayer, prowling the streets of Los Angeles looking for a teenager, they've only seen in dreams? I don't know, Spike, seems pretty normal to me."

"Yeah," he said, sardonically, "other than that."
*********************

Joni thought she saw her Daddy, but she couldn't be sure. That looked like his car that just passed by, but she didn't have the strength to call out. Then there was that fuzzy figure in the corner. It seemed to be leaning against the bricks on the other side of, what was this anyway, an alley? It was on the other side of the alley from her, and it was getting closer. Coming into focus now, she saw the familiar features she missed so much, "Daddy?"

"Yeah, Dove. It's me."

"It hurts, Daddy."

"It hurts because you don't belong here, Sweetling. I thought you knew how I felt about magic. It can be a bad thing. There are always consequences."

"I didn't mean to Daddy. I just missed you so much."

"I know," he said as he looked over his shoulder at the black car as it slowed to a stop. Two people, a man and a woman, got out and rushed to help her. They were saying something, but she couldn't understand them. Joni thought they looked a little like her Mom and Daddy. But that couldn't be because her Daddy was standing right in front of her, and he was still talking to her, "And you and I are going to have a lot of time to catch up. You and I are going to have to talk about letting Mummies and Daddies have their private time, Dove. But don't worry, you'll be back in the game again, when the time is right for you to be," his face held a whimsical expression as he watched himself, and Buffy, trying to rouse her. They were shouting but getting no response from her, because she could not hear them, "But all is not lost, Dove. I think you may have just helped...me save your Mum."

"Really, how?"

"Just by being you, Dove. Now let's be going."

"Where?"

"Home."
****************

Spike checked the girl's pulse. There were no signs of injury, yet he knew she was beyond saving the moment he saw her. He tried again to speak to her, "We'll find your Daddy, Love. Please just hold on," he looked again for injury, but found none, nothing was wrong internally, so this girl should not be dying, right before his eyes, "Don't do this, Love," he begged, "Please, not this."

He heard her soft voice behind him, "It's too late, Spike. She's dead. There's nothing we could have done."

Spike looked up at Buffy's face, "But why, Love? Why is she dead?"

As she looked into his questioning eyes, she began to wonder that herself, "I don't know why, Spike. But we're going to find out."



Buffy couldn't understand how this had happened. Just eight hours ago, she'd been dancing on a cloud of air. Doing something Angel had convinced her she couldn't do. Couldn't have, because she was the Slayer, set apart from the world. Different. Alone.

Yet she wasn't. Not anymore. He'd convinced her that the Prince of her youth, her forever love, wasn't. He'd been a magician when he'd pulled a happy ending from the tatters of what should have been a tragedy. And he'd done it all himself. While she'd been busy mending bones and muscles after Drusilla's attack, somehow he'd put together the perfect fairy tale ending for her. Completely out of thin air, suddenly there were trombones and roses, champagne and star light. And he'd done it without complaint.

The others had quietly pulled her aside, cautioning her to watch for the crash they were sure would come. It seems that this happy ending had been all that had been fueling him. Buffy knew Spike had seen some horrible things. And, once her wounds had begun to heal she wanted to be there for him, to help him sort through all the traumatic things they both knew he'd experienced in that old distillery. But, he never made any mention of them, preferring just to focus on her recovery.

And as she watched the police, and the coroner's van, drive away with another teenage, "Jane Doe" to analyze and catalog, she saw the façade he'd spent months, even years, building crumble away as if it had never been.

It was as if she were back in that little chapel in Sunnydale. He sounded broken. And, it broke her heart.

"...There's no reason for it, Buffy. None. She shouldn't be dead. Why is she dead?" his eyes were looking to her for the answer, and she had none to give. When no answer came he continued pacing as if he'd never stopped to address her at all. He was pacing and mumbling to himself, and looking at his hands as if they were some new part of his anatomy. The scene reminded Buffy of something straight out of a Shakespearian tragedy, "There should be blood," he said, looking at his hands and then down at where the dead girl had been, "There should be blood," he nodded to himself, "She's dead. But, there's no blood," his eyes never left his hands, "It's here. It should be here," he turned his palms over slowly, examining them in the light of the streetlamps, "There's so much of it."

"Miss, is he all right?" the officer asked, "Does he need an ambulance?"

"No, Officer, he just needs a minute. We're not really used to seeing young people just keel over like that. He just needs a few minutes, and then I'm sure he'll be fine."

The officer was skeptical, "Well, if you're sure he'll be all right."

"Yes, I'm sure, Officer. Thank you." She turned to Spike and tried to sound calming to his obviously frayed nerves, but she didn't know if she could accomplish such a feat of acting when seeing him like this brought her tears so close to the surface, "William, go back to the car," she pleaded with her voice, "Remember your allergy? You don't want to have another attack. I'll finish telling the policeman everything I remember," his eyes were wide and frightened as he looked at her, "Then we'll start our honeymoon. We'll be out of here before you know it," Buffy gave him a slight hug and he held her as if he was afraid she'd slip through his fingers, "Go back to the car," she hoped she wouldn't dissolve into tears and cause him more stress, "Please?"

For an instant, he seemed not to recognize her. Looking at her as if she were a curiously beautiful butterfly he'd only just discovered, he nodded, turned on his heel and walked stiffly toward the sanctuary the big, classic car offered him.

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief as she watched the door close, encasing Spike in the darkness that was his safety. Turning to the officer, she asked, "What do you want to know?"
*********************

In the cool darkness of the car the nightmares came flooding back. The images came too fast for him to process them. Each one pummeled him until he couldn't defend himself anymore. He was just too tired. Six months of this. He thought immersing himself in the fairy tale would help him to beat it. But, he was wrong, he realized that, now.

There were things that went through his head when he went to sleep, and sometimes when he was awake, that he could never tell Buffy about. Buffy. Perhaps he'd been wrong about who Drusilla's last victim had been. Maybe it wasn't Buffy at all. Maybe, it was he.

He pulled his knees up against his chest, suddenly not caring what a sad picture he must have seemed, a full-grown man cowering in the corner, and tried to make himself as small as he possibly could. If he made himself small enough then maybe the nightmares wouldn't know he was there. If he were small enough, maybe he could escape them. He'd tried it once before, in another time and place. But, that time and place was closed off now, and he couldn't go back, no matter how much he might want to.

It hadn't worked anyway. The nightmares still found you, no matter how hard you tried to outrun them they still found you. He understood that. And so did Angelus.
************************

He'd been patrolling when he noticed their car. Theirs. Yes, they were together now, he knew that. Who didn't? It was all over the West Coast inside a week. It was unheard of. It was an, ironically, unholy alliance. A Slayer and a vampire were to marry? Impossible. It was against every rule, written or not, that there was. It just was not done. He'd tried to spare Buffy from that. He'd tried to give her a normal life. And he'd tried to make Spike see reason and let her go so that she could have the normal life he knew neither of them could give her.

But Spike was never one to be reasonable.

As Angel watched the coroner's van pull silently away, he decided to follow. Spike had been right for once. There was no physical reason, that he could detect, for that girl to be dead. From his rooftop vantage point, Angel could see that this runaway's death had Spike quite visibly undone. Even Buffy was having a difficult time settling him. He had a bad feeling about this. Spike had done many things, but he didn't spook easily. For that reason alone, Angel was going to find out what had caused her death.
*****************************

Buffy ducked into the car. She found Spike curled up in the corner of the back seat. His back was pressed against the doorframe and his head was resting on his knees. The posture reminded her so much of his time in the Sunnydale High School basement that it sent quivers down her spine, "Spike, are you all right?"

He looked at her as if he were seeing her for the first time in years, instead of mere moments ago, "Buffy?"

"Yeah," she smiled, "Buffy Anne Summers at your...I mean," her eyes twinkled at him as she tried on her new moniker, "Mrs. William Alistair Dustin, at your service, sir," she giggled, "You never told me you had a goofy name like Alistair."

The look on his face had proven her right. When in doubt, distract.

"Goofy? My name's goofy?" he huffed, "Where as, 'Buffy' is a classic that's been around for generations! Queens and noblewomen the world over have been called Buffy!" he shook his head a little, giving her a smile, "Love, that's not your actual name," he winced, "is it?"

She pouted, "What, you don't like my name?"

"I love your name, Pet," he assured, "It's just that 'Buffy' used to be a nickname, of sorts, for Elisabeth. Is your Christian name, Elisabeth?"

"Yeah, but I like Buffy better."

"So do I, Love," he grinned, some of his pains forgotten when he looked into her face, "I'm really sorry about losing myself back there."

She waved him off, "No problem! If you can't wig out a little in front of your wife... Besides, if you got out of control, I'd just kick your ass."

He nodded and smiled at her, grateful for the bit of normalcy she offered him, "You would at that, Pet."

"Damn right I would," she touched the hand that bore the ring that matched hers, "Now, what do you say we start our honeymoon?"
*********************

Angel walked into the police station, appearing frantic, "I need to report a missing person."

The officer at the desk didn't even bother to glance up, "Name, age and physical description?"

"Lorraine Angelus. She's seventeen," he said, wringing his hands, "She ran away a week ago. Her mother and I have been so worried about her. I wonder officer, have you seen her?"

"I won't know that until you tell me what she looks like."

"She's just a little over five feet tall and has maple colored hair and brown eyes. Oh, and she has a very distinctive birthmark on her left cheek. It's a kind of purplish color. It looks like a bird."

That description caused Officer Theodore Brown to look up at the frantic man giving the report. Just as he came on shift this evening there was a coroner's report that crossed his desk about a "Jane Doe" matching this exact description, "Are you this person's father?" he asked.

"Yes," Angel lied.

Theo's heart sank. He hated this part of the job, "I see. Sir, come with me, please."
******************************************

Buffy's mind suddenly went blank. There was no room in her head for rational thought. Not when he was touching her like that.

His hands. His hands were doing things, and touching her in places she'd never been touched before, by anyone. Not even him. Somehow, he'd managed to find places she didn't know existed. And it wasn't just his hands that were taking her to new heights. He was doing things to her that she didn't even think were possible for the average human to endure. It was a good thing for the both of them that she wasn't the average human.

"Oh, God, Spike," she moaned, thrilling at how her body felt.

"Like that, Pet?" he purred against her skin, "You taste so good. You're ambrosia."

"Where did you learn to do that?" she asked, when she had regained the rational thought needed to construct a simple thought.

His eyes were dark and shining with lust, and love for her, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Yes, I would," she said, lazily, "So we can go there. And, do that again."

Spike smirked at her, "Why travel so far, when you have everything you need close at hand?"

"I do, you know," she paused at his quizzical look, "Have everything I need," she coaxed him up for a kiss, "Right here."

Spike nuzzled into the crook of her neck, clearly overcome with emotion, " I love you, Buffy. I just... love you. You know I would never hurt you, don't you?"

"Not unless I asked you to," she said, slyly.

She could see from the look on his face that he wasn't in a teasing mood, and she sobered quickly, "I know," when he tried to avoid her eyes, she asked, "Where did that come from?"

He was suddenly stuttering and unsure. He sat up in the bed, his back to her, "I don't know, exactly," his eyes were bright, "It's just that..." he looked at his hands again, touching the ring he wore, a bit timidly, "these hands have done so much. Too much, you don't even know..."

Buffy sat up and held his hands in hers, looking down at the place where they were joined now, "I know what it is you've done. But, we're together now. From here on out, we go through things like a team. Together," she pushed his face toward her so that she could see his eyes; "You're my partner now. You're more than that now," she said, remembering the words etched into both of their wedding bands, "You're me."
*****************

As Angel searched through the girl's personal effects, he discovered a small silver band, tarnished with age. He could tell that this piece of jewelry was a prized possession, the metal made soft from constantly being near the skin. On the inside of the band, Angel could just make out an inscription, "W.E. are one."


IN THE INTERREGNUM

"Spike, give him a chance," Buffy cajoled, "He could surprise you. Maybe he's changed."

Spike was incredulous, "Changed? Love, he hasn't changed his hairstyle in a hundred years! What makes you think things will go differently this time?"

"As I recall, he used to say the same things about you. I can still hear him now, 'Spike will never change. He only thinks about himself. He's not as special as I am.'"

"The ponce said that? To you?"

She nodded, "He did," she kissed away the grimace that was starting to form on his face, "But that's not important now. The point is, you proved him wrong. You nursed Joni through skinned knees, bumped elbows and broken hearts. Not to mention the illness and death of a parent. It was very important that she learn that she can move through the hurt, and still be herself. That's something you taught Joni, and her Mommy, very well. I'm very proud of you. And, so is Joni."

"Love, I had hoped to find the answer in time," he cast his eyes downward, "to save you. Maybe then, Joni would have known I loved her," he sighed, "Buffy, how can you say I taught her anything? I was shut down for an entire year. She needed her Daddy and I wasn't there. I didn't teach her anything."

"Hey," she tilted her head so that she could see his eyes, " She grew up, didn't she? She was the best Slayer, even better than me. I'd say you taught her enough," she smiled at him, tilting his eyes up to her, "And, don't be so gloomy faced. Not here. I had a good life. Joni's was just starting. And maybe now, we won't have to go through that."

"Yeah. Somehow I doubt it. I don't like the idea of Peaches having that much power. It tends to corrupt. And, he's very suggestible. The first time around we had seven years together, fighting your average everyday vampires and demons, before 'Lace' came along, and my whole world imploded. Now, Angelus has his finger on the button, and he doesn't even know it. And me?" Spike shook his head, "Love, he's still reeling. He's not near ready enough."

"Well," Buffy said, "it looks like he's going to have to get ready."
*********************

Holding her hand as they walked along the beach, Spike watched the way the moonlight reflected off the water and set her aglow in silver. The light from the stars bounced in her hair, setting it on fire and giving her face an appearance he dimly remembered. He saw her face like this once that he could recall, and that was when he'd had the gem and ambushed her in the quadrangle. He'd toyed with her and delayed what he thought would be his gratification, because he had needed those precious few seconds to memorize how she had looked with the sun radiating out of her skin and hair. He needed to freeze those few moments and file them away so that, when his own world got too lonely and cold, he would have her image to keep him company.

That was just one of the things he never told her about.

And now here she was. But this was not a memory, at least not yet. This was real. And she looked so much softer than he remembered. She seemed lighter somehow. She was more full of life now than she seemed then, and he couldn't believe it was all due to him. He knew he didn't have that kind of power. No, this was all her.

"Hey, you're a million miles away, mister. You'll start to give a girl a complex," she squeezed his hand, bringing him back to the present, "What were you thinking about?"

He laced his fingers through her hair and watched as the moonlight danced between his fingers as he slowly let the strands fall. As they moved through her hair, his fingers seemed to ignite fragrances he'd never known before. She was new to him, just waiting to be discovered. She was amazing.

He was so dazzled by her that he was nearly mute, "You. Do you know how amazing you are?"

As Buffy looked at him, he seemed to transform right before her very eyes. In an instant he went from a man to a vulnerable and awe struck boy. A boy she wanted to protect, with all her heart. "You're pretty amazing yourself," she said as she kissed him.
*************************

The coroner's report took a week to compile, mostly due to the fact that Lorraine Angelus's hematology was anomalous. The blood seemed to contain antibodies that had never been seen before.

The usual protocol in matters like this would be to call in the proper authorities. With the atmosphere so twitchy about anything unexplained these days, notifying the local hazardous materials squad as well as the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta had become almost second nature.

So, imagine Doctor Samuel Hill's surprise when word came down from his superiors telling him that there would be no need to notify those agencies of his findings. Any statement of his findings, as well as the body the statements referred to, was to be released to her father immediately for cremation.

As he prepared the medical waste for proper disposal, he grumbled a little, "Just when did this new policy go into effect, anyway? I don't remember seeing a memo about it. But then again, they don't tell me everything," he put his head down, trying to dot every " I" and cross every "T", in triplicate. It had to be perfect, or he would be sure to hear about it, "This just creates more work for me. I hate paperwork."
**********************************************

IN THE INTERREGNUM

"You sure you want to do this, Dove? I don't want to make you do something you don't want to. You won't be able to protect yourself. And if he finds you first," his grip tightened on her arms, "I swear, I'll make him pay. If he thinks he's cursed now... He may just have to redefine the word."

"Daddy, you wouldn't be here now if it wasn't for me. You deserve everything Daddy. I can't let him have it when it doesn't belong to him. If coming on stage a little early means that I can have both you and Mom," she nodded, " then I'm doing it!"

"But Dove, he killed your parents and he nearly killed you! A little baby! He found out what you could do, and all his morality flew out the window while he was throwing the baby out with the bathwater. I don't trust him. Not one wit."

"Well Daddy," Jonina leaned up on her toes to kiss him, "You'll just have to stop him."
**************************************

"Oi, sleepyhead, wake up."

Spike tried to ignore it maybe it would go away.

"Ignoring me is not going to make me go away. You know Peaches tried that. It only made me more annoying. And you know how annoying I can be when I put my mind to it."

"I'm on my honeymoon," he told the darkness, because he refused to open his eyes and acknowledge the presence in his head. And that's exactly where it was, and where it was going to stay, "Go away!"

"You're right, I am in your head. But I'm other places too. I know where you are because I've been there too. Believe me, I don't want you to miss this, not for the world. It'll be all you have, later," the voice that sounded like him, the one Spike had started referring to as, "Jiminy," sounded almost nostalgic, "I don't want to ruin this for you."

"Then don't!" Spike hissed.

"I don't want to. But this is so important that I'm about to do something I already hate myself for. Hang on. I'd say take a deep breath but, right now, you don't need it. This is going to hurt."

Spike's brain was flooded with pictures he didn't want. But he couldn't stop them:

Buffy's death from a lingering illness he's powerless to stop. Seeing the little girl that haunted him crying her little heart out. Angelus, killing a mother while she held her infant close to her and snapping the father's neck when he tried to protect the infant that was falling from her mother's grasp. And that dove. The child. Oh, God!

He woke up, screaming and shaken, "Buffy, we have to go back," he gasped.