April 8, 2005-LOS ANGELES

"Where do you suppose they went on their honeymoon?"

Xander smiled at Dawn, "Like I've said already a thousand times, 'I don't know.' He wouldn't tell anyone where he was planning on taking her. It was kind of an obsession with him, which doesn't really surprise me all that much. Giving her a happy ending after what happened, we all wanted that. So, he didn't tell. And, I didn't ask."

Dawn's face glazed over as her mind sifted through all the romantic places Spike could have taken her, "Do you think it was the beach? Buffy loves the beach. Or, maybe he took her to England? You know, take her to visit his old stomping grounds?"

Xander sighed. He was no match for a girl who'd been raised on fairy tales, "I don't know Dawn. And personally, I'd rather not have a play-by-play running through my head, if you don't mind."

Dawn smirked, "Jealous?"

"Yes. Now, let's get back to research mode."

"I don't understand why we don't just call them. I'm sure they'd come back."

Xander leaned in close over the table, "Maybe we're not calling them, Dawn, because they're on their honeymoon?"

Dawn reached into her purse, which she had tossed on the table after Giles summoned the gang to George's old garage for a powwow, and took out her cellular phone, "If Buffy didn't want to be interrupted, then why did she leave her cell phone number?"

He shrugged, "Habit? She's not the only Slayer, now. I'm sure we can handle this on our own, Dawn. I'm still not sure why Giles even called us here. This is L.A. after all, it's not like a mysterious death is all that mysterious."
**************************

It seemed to Buffy that long moonlit walks and lovemaking in the sand just weren't in the cards for them. Not that he hadn't tried to give her those things, he had. And the nights were wonderful. Having him there, she felt like she was the only person in the world. He looked at her as if he could see the moonrise in her eyes, and she kind of liked being that important to someone again. After Willow's spell that awakened all the potential Slayers, she kind of missed being the only one. She didn't think she would, but she did.

No, the nights were fine. Cataclysmic in fact, in a very good way. It was just the days that bothered her. She wasn't worried about herself. It was Spike she was concerned about.

His days were filled with fitful sleep. Drusilla's attack seemed to hit him much harder than he had ever let on. Though there was a permanent scar that Drusilla left them both with.

The viciousness of her attack had affected their future in a way neither of them had foreseen. Drusilla had hurt them in a way, and in a place that couldn't be spoken of. A place that Spike wouldn't share with her. She tried to assure Spike that it wasn't important to her. That he was all that mattered to her because he was, all that mattered to her. He was the past and the future to her. Nothing else mattered. Spike did not see things the way she did. He became fixated on the idea that he was somehow responsible for her condition. She tried to tell him that, even if she didn't have children of her own, they could always adopt. Once she felt it was safe to take responsibility for something bigger than a goldfish, they could always adopt. But that day was perhaps years away.

At least it sounded more sincere than the "cookie dough" speech. Maybe it sounded more sincere because it was.

Her assurances did not assuage the guilt he felt at being, at least in part, responsible for her ordeal. She knew that, and she wished that there were something she could do for him, to help him through this.

He said that he knew that there would be sacrifices that had to be made for him to be with the one person he knew was right for him. If that meant becoming a vampire so that he could be around when that one girl came into being, so be it. And, if being around when she came into the world meant that having Nibblets of his own was out of the question that was just how it had to be. But, when it came to her? That was another story altogether.

He'd said it. But, when he did, she noticed a light went out of his face. It was almost as if he'd finally given up on a dream. Let go of something he'd just realized that he grew out of. Something he didn't even know he wanted until the possibility of having it had been snatched away from him.

After that, the dreams about the little girl started. It was then that Buffy knew just how much Spike had wanted it, the whole dog and white picket fence and two kids, one boy, one girl, just to give things a kind of equilibrium thing. And it broke her heart because she knew that, somewhere in Spike's subconscious mind, he'd constructed this child that haunted him as a means of dealing with a loss he didn't even know he was feeling. A teenager could be explained. Maybe it was a Slayer dream, something he shared with her as a result of what happened on the Hellmouth. The loss of hope was a horrible thing. And Buffy knew that the sudden appearance of a baby was just a manifestation of the loss he was feeling.

She knew how he felt, because she was feeling it, too. She wanted to help him through it, if he would only let her help.

"Spike, could the things that happened in your dream, could they be memories of things that have already happened?" Buffy tried to reason with him, "I mean, Angel and Drusilla did have a thing for children, you know, when they were evil."

Spike paced in front of the curtained hotel room window, "Love, I only hope this is just stress. Do you really think I wanted to interrupt our honeymoon with tales of the boogieman?" he sat back down on the bed, visibly shaken, "I'm half taken to believe that I've gone round the bend again, like before. That would be preferable to this," Spike ran his fingers through his hair in distress, "What's in my head now, Angelus couldn't even fathom. Not even he's that twisted," he shook his head, trying to summon the words that would let her understand, "No, Love, this was cold. So cold that..." he lost the words and looked at her. He looked so lost that her heart tore in two for him. He was near sobbing when he next spoke, his words muffled by the comfort she was trying to give him, "I've done some things that would make your blood run cold, Buffy. But this? It was like I'd seen it all before. It was like I knew what was going to happen. Like I was seeing it all in slow motion, only I couldn't stop it. It was all happening again and I couldn't stop it," he looked at her, his face bewildered and his eyes searching as he held her tightly, "But how can that be when you're still here?" he paused and studied her closely, "You are still here, aren't you?" Spike's eyes looked as if they were balancing on the precipice of insanity. He looked at her as if something had broken inside of him, "It hasn't touched you? Please, say it hasn't."

She was resolute, "No. It hasn't touched me. I'm still here," Buffy's voice was strong even though the sight of Spike this vulnerable was, to be honest, more than a little frightening, "And, it won't touch me, because we wont let it. If you think the best place for us right now is back in Los Angeles, then we go back."

"I'm sorry, Love. This is probably nothing but newlywed jitters," he said sheepishly.

She tried to comfort him, "Vampires get those too, huh?"
*************************************

Rupert Giles had never seen anything like this. Not in all his days on the Council of Watchers, before the change or after. Not even his foray into the world of dark magic prepared him for what he was reading.

"What caused this?" he asked, hoping that he was somehow missing some important factor, "Have you contacted the authorities about this?"

"No," Angel said, "That would only cause a panic. This is why I came to you first. If anyone would know if the girl's condition was just an aberration, or something more ominous, it would be you."

"But why would you come to me with this? You know I don't trust you."

Angel nodded, "That's exactly why I came to you," he put his head down, in deference to the enormity of the information he'd just laid on the Watcher's shoulders, "I know that the Council has the blood profiles of all the active Slayers. And none of them have ever had numbers like that, am I right?"

"Yes."

"If this were to be released on the general population," Angel shook his head, "It would make the Ebola virus look like the common cold. It needs to be contained."

"I agree. But how?"

"If there were some way to limit it. Target it to one, specific population, maybe then, it could be controlled."

Rupert felt his jaw twitch and his voice harden as he looked at a creature that had tortured him just for the pleasure of hearing him scream, "Which population do you suggest?"

Angel sighed, "One that's strong. One that may be able to adapt quickly enough to survive," his voice became hard as stone, "One that has been thrown out of equilibrium of late, due to certain actions."

"The Slayers. Willow's spell. You'd endanger Buffy?"

"To save the world from extinction?" Angel nodded, grimly, "Yes, I would."

"What have you done with the body?"

"It's been cremated. And, the medical waste incinerated," he nodded toward the papers in Giles's grasp, "Once you burn those, no one will know that Lorraine Angelus even existed."
*****************



APRIL 8, 2005

"Are you completely out of your mind! I am not putting the Slayers' lives in danger, not to mention Buffy's when there is no proof whatsoever that this is anything but some sick concoction of yours," Giles paused, taking the time he needed to gather his breath, as well as the venom needed to finish his address of this creature, "Angelus."

Angel winced at the contempt that the old Watcher had for him, "I don't care what you think of me," he said softly, "And I know you don't trust me, and you shouldn't. But numbers don't lie. Those numbers," he said, pointing to the papers in Giles's hand, "Are totally skewed. If this is more than just an accident, some freak of nature, a one in a million thing? Then, we need to be prepared," he shook his head, "because this even has me scared. And I used to be good at the apocalypse thing. Both stopping them," he put his head down, overcome with the stress of the things that had happened over the last few months, "And causing them."

Giles looked at Angel's demeanor. Instead of being open, with a wide stance that would convey confidence, he was closed in tightly, trying to look small. Seeing that caused a chill to spread out over his limbs, "You're not lying to me, are you?" he asked.

"No," Angel said as he took a small plastic bag from his pocket, and threw it on the coffee table in front of Giles. The bag was clearly marked with the label, "Police Evidence," "But, if you don't believe me, there are some things in there," he gestured toward the bag on the table between them, "that might change your mind. Those are some of 'Lorraine Angelus's' personal effects. They were found on her the night she died. They were released to her 'father' before she was cremated," Angel turned to leave, "You may be shocked at what you find in there," he squared his shoulders, "I know I was," he said as he closed the door.

Giles looked over the contents of the bag. There was a small journal, apparently belonging to someone named Jonina Irene Dustin. It looked well worn. So that was her name. Giles had a penchant for being able to call up the most obscure meaning of a word. It helped him to understand Latin more easily.

Her name denoted strength. Without knowing it, her parents had befitted this anonymous girl with a name that any Slayer would be proud to have. Dustin, Jonina Irene was a "Valiant Dove of Peace."

The wheels began to turn in his head as Rupert began to sift through the meager belongings of this unfortunate young lady. Dustin. He was sure he'd heard that name somewhere before. Yes. That was the name William used. It was the name Buffy had taken when she'd wed him.

Oh, God.

He began to search franticly over the scraps off a life he didn't know, but now through tragic events, must begin to know intimately.

To his horror, he found something he recognized. A tiny silver wedding band with an inscription he knew well, "W.E. are one."

With trembling hands, he opened the small, worn leather bound notebook to a random date. The detail with which the seen was described transported Rupert Giles through time and space, to a world he did not want to know.
*******************

DECEMBER 2, 2027

Willow knew that the end was coming soon. She'd seen this happen with all the Slayers, eventually. It just never happened this fast. Maybe he just missed her too much to put up a fight anymore.

She only hoped that she would be able to take care of Jonina the way he wanted her to when the time finally came.

Willow slipped quietly into the sickroom, trying to tune out the sobbing that was filling the room. Georgina saw her and left Joni to her grief. The two of them went out into the hall, both out of respect and to escape the sorrow that was taking the air out of the room, "It's happening fast," George said, "I don't know what Joni's gonna do," she sounded tired and on the verge of sobbing herself, "He's her world. Once he's gone…"

"I know. He tried to prepare her. But there's just no preparing for something like this. And, if Joni ever found out…Well Spike has been spending what little strength he has making me swear to him that she won't. He's afraid of what she'll do, when the reality finally hits her."

"Has she had any rest?" George asked, peeking in the room and noticing how frail she looked. Even more frail than he did, and he was, sadly, on his deathbed.

Willow shook her head, "No. I've tried to make her come away. I even tried telling her that having her sick too is not what her Daddy would want, but nothing's worked. She won't budge an inch. She says she doesn't want to miss anything," she nodded to herself, the tears started to flow down her cheeks, "But he can't even see her anymore," she sniffed, "I doubt he even knows she's in the room."

George fought to maintain a quiet respectful tone, when all she really wanted to do was go into that room and hold Joni, and cry like a baby because she was losing a friend, just as Joni was losing a father, "But she will know, Willow. And, that's all she has right now."
*******************

Joni tried to be strong. She tried to be brave. But how could she when her Daddy was dying, and of the same thing that killed her Mom? "Lace." What a pretty name for such an ugly, disgusting and vile thing. There was nothing pretty about what, "Cassandra's Lace" did, to anyone.

If it were anyone but her Daddy lying there, she could have been more clinical about the whole thing. She could appreciate the beautiful brutality of the thing. She couldn't the first time, she'd been only ten. All she'd understood then was that her Mom had been taken away from her. She was older now. Her Daddy, and the Slayers had been fighting this thing almost from the time she was born. She should have been used to it. But she wasn't. She hated it.

And she hated her Daddy even more because, when he'd been different, he hadn't thought of her, or the future. He only saw Mom. But he couldn't save her.

And then the change happened. Something he'd forgotten about happened. And, now she was losing her Daddy because he forgot about everything. He forgot about her. Forgot about how she would feel.

She hated him for that.

Joni tried to be brave as she surveyed the damage the virus had done to him. She tried to see him through the shimmering mist that was over her eyes. She wasn't crying. Her Daddy wouldn't want that.

The broken capillaries under his skin gave it the appearance of red lace. It was this that gave the virus its deceptively benign name. The buildup of pressure in his brain had destroyed his optic nerve, rendering him blind. The pressure, coupled with the virus's insatiable need for nerve tissue, had slowly eaten away his voluntary muscle control. If it hadn't been for his strong physical condition when he'd first been infected, as well as his, "special" circumstances before, he would have been dead weeks ago. Instead, he lingered for months.

He had known the horror of his death from the moment the change occurred. He had given up on the idea that things would change, so when they did, it was a shock.

He began to mourn Joni's loss with her, almost from the start. Because of that, because he didn't want to leave her, he held on long after he should have let go.

"Daddy, can you hear me?" she asked as she held his hand, "I'm here, Daddy. It's 'Dove.' I'm here," she murmured.

He may not have been able to see or speak, but he could still hear her. She didn't know if that was a blessing or a curse. He still had some muscle control, probably due to his indomitable will, and he turned his head, slowly and painfully toward the sound of her voice.

Sightless eyes blinked in acknowledgement of her, and tears glossed over them as his jaw worked to clench muscles that had long since been deaf to his commands.

"It's all right Daddy," she said, as her own tears mixed with his, "You don't have to talk. You've said it all before. I know. I know. I'm a big girl now Daddy," she said as she smoothed his brown curls from his forehead, "And, I can fly on my own, just like you taught me," her voice seemed too small for her throat, "It really is okay, Daddy," she nodded, "I know you're tired of fighting. Even you have to stop sometime. You've been doing it for so long now. I know you're very tired, and I know you miss her so much," Jonina watched as the tears came faster, somehow, as if he were begging her to forgive him and let him stay, "I miss her too," she sobbed, "Daddy, tell Mommy I love her. It's all right, Daddy."

With one last, chaste kiss, a daughter said goodbye to her father for the final time. There would be no coming back from this journey. As she watched his eyes drift shut, she moved stiffly to inform her family that her Daddy was gone.
**********

Giles's hands trembled as he read the words. If this girl was who she seemed, then she held inside her a warning that they must heed. Or they would all die.


APRIL 9, 2005

After reading the entirety of Jonina's journal, Giles felt conflicted. The world she described was indeed a world that needed preparing for, but he knew from experience that time and space could be a fickle thing. Often if one thing were thrown out of balance, nature compensated, and very quickly, too.

Angel was correct in one respect. Willow's spell was ingenious. It helped them to defeat an obvious enemy. But, much like the animal kingdom, there is a delicate relationship to predator and prey. If one is overpopulated, often the other becomes weak and dies off. In the case of the vampire and the Slayer, on its face, this may seem to be a good thing, but with no prey, the predator often becomes extinct.

There was a reason there was only one Slayer the whole world over. And, Willow's magic, although an ingenious stratagem may have been shortsighted. The illness described in this young lady's journal, may have been natures way of restoring the balance.

If that were to be tampered with things could be made worse.
*******************************
IN THE INTERREGNUM

"Dove, I know you're anxious to fix what you did," he smiled a little at the way she'd taken after him, "You're a bit like your Da that way. But, you need to give the old Watcher time to figure it out. And you need to give him," he shook his head. Spike still couldn't get used to referring to himself in the third person, "a chance to get to know his daughter. Angel has taken you away from him for the time being."

Joni tried not to cry. She hadn't seen her Daddy in so long that it was hard to keep the tears away, "Angelus didn't take anything from him Daddy. I did."

"Sweetling," he cooed, "we are not going through this again. This is not your fault. If anything, this is Angelus's fault, for jumping the gun."

Jonina was inconsolable, "Then it is my fault, Daddy," she resisted his embrace, but Spike didn't loosen his gentle hold on her, "If I'd only listened to Aunt Willow! Then it would have stopped," her voice quivered, "with you. And your death wouldn't have been for nothing. I'm so sorry, Daddy."

He shook his head, "Hush, none of that now," he smiled, gently lifting her chin to meet his eyes, "Or, do I have to bring your Mum in here?"

"Daddy, this is so hard. All I wanted was you, and now all I want to do is help. Now, I can't do that!"

Looking into her sienna eyes, Spike realized how much he did love her and how much he would love her, if he were given the chance, "Can't help? Now, come on, you know how smart your Mum and Dad are. I'm sure you can. You just have to wait a few more months so that your Da can get his footing again. And when he knows what you can do, when he puts the cure with the disease, when he sees what you can do?" he hugged her tightly, "Sweetling, when it all falls into place, your Da will move Heaven and earth to protect you. Even from Angelus. You are the key to stopping this. Angelus didn't see that. But your Da, he will. I'll make sure of it."

"I know you will, Daddy. I just don't want to see you hurt again. I hate it."

"I know, Dove," he said as he kissed her hair, "I know."
*************************

Giles knew that nature sometimes encapsulated the cure within the disease somewhere. Darwinian Theory even had a term for it. It was called a, "spontaneous genetic mutation."

The fittest among a population do survive. And, Jonina Dustin, bless the young lady's heart, had somehow defied time and space to place the answer to an upcoming apocalypse in their hands, months, perhaps years before it was needed. And now, all that was left of Jonina Irene Dustin was a page of numbers and ratios he did not understand.

There were a few trinkets, some of which confirmed who she seemed to be. There was that small journal which, along with telling of a horrible disease, also told of a daughter's love for her mother and her father. But, from what Giles could glean from her words, Jonina had an incredibly loving relationship with her father, one that, at times, as he read the words from a phantom life, would bring a tear to his eye.

It was the kind of relationship that Buffy had said, over and over again, ad infinitum, that Spike was capable of. A relationship that, until reading the words in this journal, Rupert Giles had thought was impossible for a creature such as he.

And now, because of the impulsive actions of Angelus, the cure to an absolutely horrid plague may have turned to a handful of white ash.

Giles gathered up the leather-bound volume that delineated a small but incredibly enormous life and swept it into his palm, where it rested with the weathered and aged wedding band, the same one that he had last seen glistening happily on a young bride's finger as she held her husband's hand. A hand with a band of silver that glowed in answer to its mate, along with that rested the treasured chrome-plated lighter. These were small treasures of a life that, through another's actions, would not, at least through any avenue he could foresee, be able to preserve the lives she loved so well.
********************

Buffy winced as Spike ran his fingers lightly over her swollen ankle, "That hurt, Love?"

She bit her lip, trying not to yelp even as tendrils of pain shot through her leg as he touched it, "Um hum," she whimpered.

He shook his head as he watched her ankle turn purple and swell even more as he touched it, "It was your bright idea to go hiking…in the daylight…without me. You're lucky I found you."

"What, I didn't yell loud enough? I think the whole park heard me," she sighed, "Of course, you brought out 'Dudley Do-Right' and his pals. So that could have helped a little. Stupid rock. Stupid shoe."

"You were wearing plimsolls, Love," he said, looking at her with a soft gaze, "It wasn't the shoes. You shouldn't have gone out without me."

"You're looking at me like I'm made of glass. You know I'm not."

"I just don't want to see you hurt, Love. I just found you."

"Ditto."

Just then, the cell phone she'd insisted on bringing along even though he protested, chirped for her attention, "This had better be good," she said cheerily, "Because we're on a honeymoon and we plan to be so for another week. So, talk fast," she winked at Spike, " 'Cause, we're busy. And plan to get busier."

"Glad to hear it," her Watcher's tense voice filtered into her ear, "And I wish I didn't have to pull you away from your well deserved happiness, Buffy. But, it seems that, in your absence, another apocalypse has reared its head."

"Oh, that," Buffy grumbled, "It must be Tuesday…somewhere."



IN THE INTERREGNUM

"Joni, your Daddy said you needed to talk to me?"

Joni was pacing, much like her father did. She was all nervous energy, even here. At first Buffy couldn't understand it. She thought that maybe something would change inside; she thought that something would be different about them. But then she remembered that when she was first here, she was still who she was. Even though she wasn't on that plane of existence anymore, she was still who she was. She didn't change. Why would she expect it to be different for the ones she loved?

Joni ran to her mother's arms, the tears running down her face, "Mommy, is that really you?"

"Yep," Buffy nodded as she held her daughter, "Me and Daddy and Grandma. We're all here. And, we love you."

"I missed you all so much!"

"I know, Sweetheart. And I know you want to help," she winked at her daughter, "So, what do you say you give your Mommy a little help setting someone on the path to becoming your Daddy, and fulfilling a destiny he'd given up on?"

Buffy could see the impish twinkle flare in Joni's eye. She was so like her father that it made Buffy smile, "Okay," Joni smirked as she held her mother's hand, "what did you have in mind?"

Buffy leaned close to Joni's ear and whispered, "I was thinking, we needed to do something really important to get his attention."
*****************

Spike didn't like it. Slayers didn't just trip on rocks and twist their ankles until they became swollen purple masses, despite what Buffy said. In all the times they'd been locked in combat, whether he was her enemy or her ally at the time, she never once twisted her ankle. Not once in all the time she fought him. This just wasn't right.

Buffy tried to push him away. She didn't need him to hold her up. She could walk to the car on her own. Okay, so it was more like hobbling, but it still got her to the car, "Spike, go away, I'm fine," she saw the worry mixed with a touch of fright, competing for dominance in his eyes, "Don't get me wrong, I love that you're so attentive. And, the next time I get the flu, I'll soak up all the attention you can give out," she put her hand to his cheek, trying to soothe the worry lines she saw there, "But right now I need you to stop treating me like spun glass. It makes me nervous. And, it's just a twisted ankle. In two days I'll be ready to spar with you again," she smiled, "It'll be just like old times."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of, Love. I'm not ready for another apocalypse right now," Spike shut his eyes, suddenly realizing that for the first time in six months, perhaps longer, he was admitting to being scared, "I don't think I'm fit to be in that world. And, I can't protect you unless I'm on top of my game. And I'm nowhere near ready."

Her face softened as she smiled at him. She really did love him. And she could say that now. Buffy knew that she would do whatever she had to, to keep that lost, sad look from overshadowing the sparkle in his eyes, "Who says I need protecting?" Buffy asked, wishing she could wipe the worry out of his azure eyes.

At his downcast eyes, indicating her bruised ankle and she countered his silent argument, "That was gravity. It wasn't demonic. Even the best person, Slayer or not, falls down sometimes," she shrugged her shoulders, "And as far as apocalypses go, they come whether you're ready or not. But, if it'll make you feel better, there are still six hours until sunset. Why don't you rest? Then we can get back to the world saving business."

Spike let out an unnecessary sigh, "All right. I know you think I'm being overcautious. But something in me is telling me that whatever Rupert has brewing, it feels big and bad and ugly, and I don't like it. I want to keep you from it, if I can."

"Spike, I love you for that. I do. But, ugly, big and bad, that's what I'm good at."
******************

APRIL 10, 2005-LOS ANGELES

Xander slammed the book closed in frustration. The remnants of the original "Scooby Gang," had been up for the last forty-eight hours, looking for a "Big Bad" that Giles was being extremely vague about, "We got nothing, Giles," he looked up at the Watcher, "Don't you have anything more specific?"

Giles pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to clear his tired vision, and looked knowingly at Willow, who seemed to shrink under the heat of his glare, "I already told you my theory. Willow doesn't want to face the possibility that her spell may have been responsible for this girl's genetic anomaly. Unless we can pinpoint the exact cause, we may have no hope of fighting this when it comes, if it isn't already here."

"And because of the 'Dead Boy Wonder' all we have left of this mysterious Typhoid Mary, is a group of numbers on a piece of paper with the County Coroner's letterhead?"

Giles nodded, grimly.

"Did he drink her blood?" Xander asked, with relish, "Because if he did, maybe we can drain it from him, slowly, and see what it looks like?" he threw the Coroner's report down, in frustration, and it skidded across the table, coming to rest on the floor at the foot of the other side of the table, "I didn't understand trigonometry when I was in school," he yelled, "How am I supposed to understand it, now? Does Angel even understand how evil he is?" Xander asked, through gritted teeth.

"Creatures such as he, rarely comprehend the havoc they reek, until the damage is done," Giles said.
**************************

For the first time in six months, Spike was able to rest. Although he did have dreams, they were different.

He saw the little girl Buffy and he had found dying in an alleyway, on their wedding night. Except, she wasn't dead.

He saw her, striding with purpose through a cemetery. This wasn't patrol, but she carried herself like a Slayer. There was something familiar about the way she carried herself. It reminded him of the way Buffy had moved, after they began to train together. It seemed as if he had trained this Slayer. But the only place that he could remember her face was from that night in the alley. He would have remembered her from the last days of Sunnydale.

She held herself, trying to warm her small frame. Her feet seemed to crunch as she walked, as if there were dry leaves under her feet. He could see the white wisp of her breath as it floated on the air. He could tell that wherever this cemetery was, it wasn't California, by any stretch of the imagination. To Spike, it looked a little more like New England.

The girl looked so lost that Spike decided to follow her. He would stay to the shadows so that she wouldn't see him, but he would follow.

She seemed to sense him, no matter how careful he was to stay out of sight. She wasn't making a point of letting him know that she knew he was there, but she wasn't going out of her way to expose him, either. And, she wasn't headed for the more lighted pathways, so he could tell she wasn't scared.

That was good. Slayers should be alert, but not scared. This Slayer wasn't a newbie.

Just as he was about to settle in and watch a true Slayer work, she addressed him. Without looking back at him, she spoke to him with a voice that was as soft and familiar as an old plush toy, "Don't bother trying to hide, Daddy. I know you're there."

The fraternal form of address froze Spike on the spot. She turned, and smiled. He was gob smacked, "Daddy?" he asked.

She nodded, slowly stepping toward him, "What else would I call you? You're my Daddy."

He stared at her in wonder, "But…how? Buffy and I…we can't."

"That won't make any difference to me when I'm seven, and you're teaching me how to ride a bike without training wheels."

"Are you real?"

"As real as your dreams are," she smiled, "More," she knelt in front of a tombstone and lovingly brushed the dry leaves away.

He tried to read the name that was carved into the stone, but she moved to block his view, "No Daddy. This isn't important now," she straightened, turning to see him with her back to the engraving, "The thing that has been creeping inside you, that you've been scared of?" her eyes stayed on the ground, "I'm the cause of it," she looked into his horrified gaze, "Please don't look at me like that, Daddy. I didn't know I was going to hurt you." Spike could see that she was crying, "I just missed you and Mom so much. I just wanted to see you. I didn't know. I'm also the cure, too," she whimpered, "But, Angelus doesn't know that," she sniffed, her arms itching to hold him and have him tell her he loved her again. Like he had before her Mom died, "You have to save me, Daddy. You have to save me, and Mommy, too."

"I can't do that if I don't know your name, Dove."

She blinked in surprise, "Dove?"

Spike nodded, indicating the mark on her cheek, "Oh, I forgot," she said placing her hand on her face, over her mark, "That's what you used to call me. My name is Joni. It's Jonina, actually. Jonina Dustin. Remember, okay? It's time to wake up now, Daddy. The answer is back in Los Angeles. I know you can do it, Daddy. I have faith in you."

Spike woke up at dusk, and he and Buffy packed up the car and headed back to Los Angeles.
*************************

On the long drive back to Los Angeles, Spike thought about the dream he'd had. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got; angry enough to propel him to do something about what he was feeling.

As he drove, he waited for someone to pick up the line. It was Giles who answered, "Watcher, the Slayer and I are headed back. We should reach the Jennings Street dojo just before dawn. Before we arrive, see what the Council can unearth on the girl Buffy and I sent to the coroner March twenty-second. She's not a 'Jane Doe' anymore, Giles. She has a name. It's Jonina Dustin."

"How did you know?" Giles asked.

"Don't ask, Watcher. Just get me the information, any way you can."

The look on Spike's face left Buffy with no doubt as to whom his Grandsire was. It also told her he was serious, and deadly so. And that frightened her. She placed her hand on his arm, feeling the taught muscles under his shirtsleeve. He was tense. Too tense for her own comfort, "Are you all right?" she asked.

His jaw twitched as he told her, "I will be. Just as soon as I get my hands on Angelus."