IN THE INTERREGNUM-HOME OFFICE

Even with the daily reports, the numbers were changing faster than Holland was comfortable with. The start date for the endgame was still years away. The biomechanics division was working overtime to perfect the mutation. It couldn't be rushed.

Perhaps the best defense was a good offence. If enough red herrings were thrown in their path, he could prevent the Higher Ups from alerting their Champion too soon.

Holland looked up from his desk as she came in, "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes Persephone. Please come in," he grinned indicating the char across from his desk, "Sit. I know you're new here, but I think you can handle the assignment I have in mind for you."

"Oh, I can sir!" she said eagerly, "I can't wait to get my hands dirty."

Holland held up the file he'd just been poring over, "This assignment requires finesse. It's deep undercover," he handed her the file and nodded, giving her permission to look through the file.

Persephone slowly flipped the pages and smiled at the Regional Director, "Entropy engagement? That's ingenious! And, it should create just enough confusion to throw them so off track that they may play right into our hands," she bit her lip, "But what about the Champions?"

"Well," Holland sighed, "one of them is safely," he searched for the right word, "contained for the time being. The other, however, is your responsibility," He waved his hand in the direction of the file Persephone was reading, "You will notice that you will be entrenched, complete with a new identity, to be used for the duration of the operation."

She nodded, trying out her new name to see how it felt on her tongue, "Eve?" she smiled, "I could get used to that."
****************

OCTOBER 1, 2002-SUNYDALE

Buffy was still angry at him for leaving town and not letting her take out her revenge personally, "You wanted to talk, so talk. What's going on?"

He was uncomfortable being here, but he knew he deserved the disquiet he felt, "I was hoping you could tell me. You're the Slayer, connected to the visions. Long line of worthies? I'm just a guy with his ear to the ground, and even I can feel it. I don't know what it is, exactly, but something's brewing. Something's coming, Buffy. I don't know what, but, it's so big, ugly and damned it makes you and me look like little bitty puzzle pieces."
*****************

JANUARY 7, 2003 INTERDIMENSIONAL SPACE

"The First did not cause the disruption, only seized upon it," the oracle said.

"What caused the disruption?" Giles shouted into the howling of empty space.

"The Slayer," the oracle said.
*****************

APRIL 21, 2005

"You know something, Angelus, and I'm here to find out what that something is."

Angel looked at the determination in Spike's eyes and was very glad that it was there. He would learn to cope with the loathing and hatred that would be reflected in his eyes because of his subterfuge. He didn't like it. Never would, he supposed. But Angel was committed to keeping the grief over Buffy's death, his wife's death, on the pages of a journal, and out of Spike's eyes.

If that meant that he would be cut to ribbons by the shards of his gaze from now until he was dust, so be it. That was better than the ache he felt leaking from the pages of William's journal.

"What do you mean?" Angel asked.

The eyes looking at him flashed amber, "I think you know what I mean, Angelus. The little girl, I've seen what's left of her and even though there isn't much, unlike you, I can use my brain. I know that girl was more than she seemed," Spike tilted his head and regarded his grandsire with barely contained disgust. His voice rumbled with the effort to keep his anger under control, "At least to me. And, I'm betting that you knew that, somehow. And that's why you rushed to 'identify' the poor thing and had her remains cremated," Angel was astonished at the agony he saw in Spike's face. The pain he saw ran deep. It seemed that it was an integral part of him now. Angel knew he had failed, because now he could finally see his own reflection. Angel could see the kind of pain he felt when Connor left, in Spike's eyes. "You wanted to hurt me?" Spike continued, "I didn't think it was possible," Spike could feel the void in his chest and the tears well up in anger. He was not going to give him the satisfaction of tears. The fingers of his left hand itched as he felt the stake become part of his hand as it pressed up against the only obstacle that stood between him and the girl he thought of as his daughter, the girl whose life he wished he could have been part of but now could only grieve, "You will tell me what you know, and why you're leaving dead birds on some expectant mummy's doorstep. Why? Is the little tot she's carrying a threat to you, somehow? I thought 'hero' types like you respected the life cycle, and the human race," Spike said as he pressed the stake a little further, and was rewarded for his efforts with a sharp hiss from Angelus, "Or so help me, I'll dust you," Spike grimaced, "And then, you and I can both put that pesky old prophesy to the test. What do you think?"

Angel winced at the tiny starburst of pain the point of Spike's stake made in the center of his chest and rasped out, "I'll tell you what I know. I swear," he hissed through the pain, "Just put the stake down."
***********************

OCTOBER 28, 2004

Angel knew that Buffy was still in the hospital recovering from the injuries that she'd received in the old distillery. He knew the kind of depravity that Drusilla was capable of, and he was amazed that Buffy was still alive, let alone healing as quickly as she seemed to be. Given what he'd seen of her injuries, six weeks was an amazing recovery time.

Spike hadn't left her side in all that time. There were times when he had to be reminded to take care of himself so that he could be there when Buffy needed him. And, even though the prospect of the two of them together still stung him in a way that was unimaginable, he had things he had to make amends for, so if Spike couldn't stand in the gap that the human race didn't even know existed between them and their constant destruction, then he would do his best to fill it.



An eerily familiar voice made his stomach clench. If he'd needed nourishment to thrive, his stomach would have spilled out at the sound of it, "Glad to here that someone's taking up the slack, Angel. Someone has to."

Angel looked and saw the one man he never wanted to see again, "Holland," he growled, "What are you doing here?"

The well-tailored, Brooks Brothers suit shrugged and the face smirked, "I'm neither here nor there, Angel. And, why are you so surprised to see me? I told you we'd be doing business again soon. I just wanted to give you a heads up for the next Apocalypse."

"Why would you want to do that? I thought the Home Office's wheels turned with the grease of plagues and pestilence. Why would you want me to know anything is coming? Doesn't that put a crimp in your bottom line?"

"It does," Holland assured, "But we're not in the business of wiping out the entire human race. It's not cost effective. Without them, the wheels grind to a halt."

"What do you want me to do?"

"A child will be born in early 2006. That can't be allowed to happen," Holland said as he scribbled a name on a business card, "If she is born, first the Slayers will die, and then the entire human race."

"You mean Buffy?"

"Yes. Buffy will die," Holland nodded, wincing, "slowly and painfully. I don't even want to think about what she'll go through. And, Buffy's death will send Spike into a tailspin he won't be able to recover from. I'm sure you would do whatever you could to spare him anymore pain."

"I would," Angel admitted.

"That's what I thought," Holland said as he handed the card to Angel, "Here is the name of the child's parents. Keep it in mind."
*****************

IN THE INTERREGNUM- HOME OFFICE

Holland knew that the Higher Ups would try to alert the Champion of what he was doing. But, if he crated enough confusion, it wouldn't matter if the Higher Ups handed the Champion a roadmap and blueprint, no one could make sense of it. At least, not until it was too late to stop.

Being omnipotent really helped him do his job more efficiently. He'd even made sure to take care of both variables. Chaos Theory was a beautiful thing. And with Lila and Persephone taking care of one Champion and the other mad as Ophelia, there was no way he could lose. After all, it would take someone with a little wit to realize that, when deciphering meaning, sometimes it is the mad who truly do know the truth. And, let's face it, the Slayer may be long on strength, but she comes up short when it comes to reasoning.

So, how could he lose?
*********************




SEPTEMBER 21, 2022

Dawn was suddenly grateful that Georgina had agreed to take care of Jonina for the night because she didn't think she would be able to explain this to her. The wail was as inhuman as anything on the Hellmouth.

They were all huddled outside the small bedroom of the idyllic New England home. He had brought the tiny family here when she had taken ill, to take care of her.

It was as far from the Hellmouth as he could get her.

The look in Willow's eyes as she reacted to the sounds of grief emanating from the room were nothing compared to the void that Dawn knew awaited her when, and if, she was brave enough to go into that room. Willow wanted to do what she could to comfort him, and started to make her way to the doorway when Dawn stepped in her way, "Willow, I'm not sure that's a good idea right now," she said, as she listened to the slowly rising tide of grief, "You never know what he could say or do," she nodded begging her to understand, "He may still blame you."

"I know," Willow sobbed, "And, I don't care. I deserve it."

The sound that Dawn heard coming from the room now was a sound she hadn't heard in twenty years, and it chilled her to the bone. That sound meant only one thing. It was over. Her sister was dead.

Dawn tried to close her ears to the sound and focus on Willow. It wasn't much, but she would take any port in the storm of grief that she was sure awaited her once she went into that room.

She didn't want to go into that room. She would have done anything to stay out of the Hell that was in that room. She couldn't bear seeing that vacant look in his eyes again. He had put all his hopes in her and now with her gone she wondered if he would be able to pull himself out, or if he would let himself drown again.

Dawn walked slowly into the darkened room. The haze of sorrow that hung in the air made it difficult to see, though she could make out the outline of Spike as he hovered near the head of the bed, "Spike, is there anything I can do?"

His voice was a strangled whisper, "Nothing to be done, Bit," the vortex of pain and grief that rose up to meet her nearly made her gasp, "She's dead. There's nothing left."

The pain she felt riveted her to the spot. It took all her effort to make the muscles of her throat work so that her voice could be heard over the lump of sadness that had settled in the pit of her stomach, "Yes, there is, Spike," her voice wavered, "There's you. There's me, and there's Joni."

His eyes narrowed, as if her name was painful to him, "Joni?" his eyes widened in recognition, "Joni? Where is she, Bit?" he stood up abruptly, his voice shaken, "Bit, tell me she didn't hear that. I didn't…oh God," his head was shaking in disbelief, his eyes beseeching her to understand, "Bit, I didn't mean for her to hear," Spike had crossed the little room with surprising speed, grasping Dawn's shoulders in a desperate embrace, "Tell me she didn't hear that. I couldn't do that to her."

Dawn could see that the idea of keeping Jonina insulated from her mother's death was the only thing that was keeping him tethered to this reality, "No, Spike, she didn't hear that," she said softly, "Joni's safe," at his questioning, frenzied look she finished with, "She's with George," she nodded, "Understand? She'll be back in the morning."

He looked back at the window, his voice seeming to come from very far away, "It's dark. She hates the dark. She needs a night light."

Dawn couldn't be sure he was talking about Joni, "She'll be all right," Dawn cooed, as she led Spike slowly out of the room, "She's your daughter. She'll be all right."

For the first time since she knew him, Spike truly felt like dead weight in her arms as she guided him out into the small hallway. Buffy really did seem to be his life force. And now that she was gone, Dawn didn't know if he'd ever be the same again.

As they reached the threshold Willow stepped into their path. Dawn silently prayed that she would just keep her mouth shut and leave him alone. She hoped that Willow would know enough about Spike by now to just let him pick up the pieces at his own pace. Once he could put the pieces back, in some kind of order, then he'd approach her. Willow just needed to give Spike time to lick his wounds. She just needed to back off. But, Dawn knew, in her heart, that this was something Willow still needed to learn.

"Spike, I'm so sorry," she sobbed, "I never, never thought that this would happen," the tears were flowing down her face, "I'm so sorry. If there's anything I can do…"

Dawn winced as the demon he seldom let come to the fore revealed itself, as if it were protecting the injured part of itself from a threat, "Why is the witch weeping?" he growled, "Your job is finally done. She finally succumbed," his head tilted in grim contemplation of the instrument of his destruction. Amber eyes swam as they stared at her, "I admire your prowess, witch," he spat, "I've known the lifeblood of two Slayers," his throat and lips quivered. It was a thing that Dawn didn't think she'd ever see. A demon in the throws of sorrow, "And shared the life of one. But you," he pointed a shaking finger at her, "you've taken the lives of hundreds! How does it feel, witch, to have your hands drenched in their blood?"

Willow shrank under his fiery glare, "Spike, please. I want to help."

His jaw twitched, "You wish to help me, do you, witch?"

She nodded.

Spike placed his hand in the center of his chest and nodded, "You want to help me, Red?" his face fixed itself into a mask of agony, "Find a stake and do it, Red. It's hollow."

Willow shook her head in horror at what he was asking, "No!" she gasped, "What about Joni?"

"Please, Red, I'm empty without her. You've already killed me. Just finish the job," he choked down a sob as he begged for release from torment, "Please?"

Willow was stunned into silence as Dawn gently guided him past her, "Come on, Spike," she whispered, "You don't know what you're saying. Let's get some rest."
*******************

MAY 19, 2003

"I don't mind telling you I don't like it, Slayer. It's just too risky. Red seems in control, I know, but something like this could cause ripples for eons. I don't like it. There's only supposed to be one Slayer. And, that's you."

Buffy couldn't read his face because of the shadows that played in the room. She couldn't tell if he was saying this because he doubted her, or Willow, or the both of them. Or, he could be saying this because he didn't want to see her hurt, or worse, "Don't think I can do it, Spike? Why didn't you say something in front of the others?"

He rolled his eyes and threw his head back in frustration, "And create dissention in the ranks?" Spike shook his head, "No thanks. You've got Rona for that. It's a god plan, Slayer. It'll work," he lowered his eyes, "I just don't want it to. I've got a bad feeling. And, I don't want to risk you," he turned the amulet over in his hand, "This little bauble could do the job, Love, with no risk to you or the little girls."

Buffy stepped closer to the cot, "No, Spike. I don't know what that thing could do," she swallowed to loosen the knot in her throat, "It could kill you, Spike."

Spike smirked, "Thanks for the concern, Slayer. But in case you've forgotten, I'm dead already."

"That's not what I mean, Spike. And I think you know that."

"I know," Spike said, "But I need to do this. I made a promise."

"Ditto," Buffy said.
***********************

MAY 20 2003

Willow felt the power of the spell surging through her. Somehow she felt time vibrate and shatter; the shards escaped her grasp before she could gain control of them.

Too late, the reality of what was happening below her, to Spike, was opened to her. Too late, Willow knew that she'd made a grave mistake, "Oh my Goddess," she gasped.
**********************************

APRIL 21, 2005

Even though, unlike Angel, Spike knew better than to take what Holland said at face value, all this talk of death, her death, was bringing him closer to his Grandsire's temperament. He knew he could trust one thing, and one thing only, to bring him out of the quicksand he was in danger of sinking down into. He trusted his eyes.

He rushed through the door of the dojo; saw Buffy standing there, alive. She was all lit up with an inner light that made her glow with the soft pink light of life around her. It was so beautiful he just had to be part of it. He crossed the distance between them with large, confident strides and he swept her up in his wake and carried her to their upstairs apartment.

Caught of guard by his impulsive actions, Buffy whooped in surprise, "Spike, what are you doing?"

He kissed her, and said, with a devilish smirk, "If I need to draw up a schematic, Love, I'm doing it wrong."

"Oh," she giggled.

APRIL 21, 2005

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

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

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

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

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

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

IN THE INTERREGNUM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You really think Angel will listen to you?"

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

NOVEMBER 1, 2030

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Leave!"

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

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

APRIL 21, 2005

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

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

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

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

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



Buffy could taste the sadness in his kiss and she could see it on his face, "Hey, why are you so sad? I mean, I know you're not used to me complementing you, but I do love you," she held up her left hand, admiring the way the silver glinted in the dim light, "And, I'm wearing the jewelry to prove it," she saw the haunted look in his eyes and gasped. Her eyes misted over with the tears he couldn't, or wouldn't shed. Her voice carried the weight of the fear she just realized he felt, and she was shook to her core with it. Buffy needed to comfort him, needed to touch him to help him know that she was his, "Spike," she asked, touching his face with the knuckles of her hand, and feeling her skin vibrate with the tide of emotion that was surging through him, "What did Angel tell you?" her eyes widened, "I've never seen you like this."

He sighed and dropped his chin, not wanting to see what he felt reflected in her eyes, "It's not what he said, Love. It's the secrets he kept," he shook his head and got up from his place on the bed and reached for his robe, which was lying on the bedroom floor, having been discarded from the bed in favor of Buffy's warmth. His fingers shaking slightly as he tied his robe closed, "I never told you what Pavaine did to me, Love. I thought it was all just smoke and mirrors," he padded across the room, stopping to run his hand along the edge of the thick draperies that covered the widow and shielded him from the sun's deadly rays. Buffy held her breath in horror as she watched the muscles of his back tense in determination, and his fingers closed around the fabric. Then she exhaled a prayer of thanks as she watched the fight go out of him again. He kept his back to her, and she had to crawl off of the bed and stand beside him with her hand on his arm and her head on his shoulder before he would continue. To Buffy it seemed almost as if he'd forgotten she was even with him. His voice seemed so small, "But after what Angel told me," the pain she saw in his eyes, even in the half-light of the room, made him look a thousand years old, "I think what he showed me may have been true, Buffy," his tears shown as glistening streaks in the shadows of the room.

"What did he show you, Spike?"

Unneeded breath shuddered through him as he relived his own private Hell, "Pain. Death," he looked at her with frightened eyes, "There were thousands of them Buffy. All of them were in pain. I still shook it off. I knew it was a trick, until I saw you."

"Me?" she whispered.

He nodded, "You were feverish, in pain. But, you didn't move a muscle. You couldn't, the pain was too much for you. And, there was so much blood. So much it just covered you like lace…like some macabre sort of… Oh God," he sobbed, "I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear him apart for showing me that, Buffy. And I did. If I could have, I would have killed him all over again. I knew I couldn't save you," he sobbed, "I couldn't even touch you. But I could save Fred," he whispered, "She died anyway."

Buffy's face hardened into a mask of determination as she held his hands and gently walked backward across the room, bringing Spike slowly along with her, "All right, Spike," she smiled, "A year with Angel was not good for you," her eyes gave a sweeping glance of the room, "I mean, look at you, all darkness and brooding," she reached for his neck pulling him down to kiss her. She had to pull him out of himself or she would lose him, "Now, in case you've forgotten, there is a couple downstairs, and a tiny person, who is waiting for you to make the world safe again."

Spike's voice was filled with apprehension, "Think you might have the wrong vamp there, Love."

"No, I don't," she said tenderly, pulling him along until her back was against the closed door. Still holding his hands lightly in hers, she ran her thumbs over his skin, "Now, close your eyes."

He closed his eyes and sighed, "Buffy…"

"That's good, you're half way there. Stop talking."

"Love, what?" he asked, in confusion. She was beautiful, there was no denying that, but sometimes her flight of thought was hard to keep up with.

She nodded in sympathy, "I know it's hard, especially for you. But, do it anyway, for me. Stop talking."

He nodded, "Haven't we done this before?"

She nodded her head, her eyes glinted with humor, "Yes," she murmured, "we have. But, I think you need it now, 'Grasshopper.' Now, listen close. Stay quiet for a minute, then tell me what you hear."

Spike closed his eyes and listened to the sounds that no one else could hear. He heard the alveoli in her lungs fill and empty as her body delivered the oxygen her body needed. He listened to the muscles of her ribcage expand and contract as the lungs filled and deflated. The rhythms of her blood as it rushed through her became a symphony to him.

Under that was the quiet woodwind concerto of the bloodstreams of their guests. People who put their trust in him, these people did trust him even without knowing anything about him.

But that was wrong. The woman did know who he was. He could sense that Talitha Sands was a Slayer. She knew who he was, what he was and she knew what it was he had done. She knew all of it, and she still trusted him to protect the life that was inside of her.

Spike tried to zero in on the small life force inside of her. The prospect of protecting it was daunting, but he found himself wanting to take it on. In fact, Spike felt he needed to. Given what he had been told, if it was true, the idea of protecting a pure, innocent soul from that Hell was fast becoming his driving force.

He slowly tuned out the faint background noise of the others and focused again on the strong, steady beat of Buffy's heart. It was so strong and steady, so confident in her own skin. So confident in him; Buffy told him that it was his strength that had made her strong when she needed to be. She had said that it was his strength that had held her up even when she didn't know that he was in the world to hold her.

He just hoped that he could keep his footing atop the pedestal she seemed to be holding him to, "I hear you. And, I hear them, too."

"There're alive, right?" she whispered.

Spike blinked. He thought that much was very obvious, "Yeah, Love, very much so."

Buffy wanted to kiss the perplexed look off of his face, "Spike," she said, "They're alive because of you. I'm alive because of you."

Spike shook his head, wanting to say something in protest, but she cut him off, "…It's true. You may not believe it, but it is true," her eyes went down in thought, "Others," she smirked, knowing that the mention of her past would anger him, "who shall remain nameless," her eyes lit up with mirth at the slight rumble she heard sounding in his chest, "have tried. But you," her hand rested on his chest, and he hissed because of the heat he felt, "you are, the one, the only, accept no substitutes, Champion. And that baby," she asked, "She doesn't know who you are, or what you've done. She only knows 'now.' And now, she trusts you."

"She?" Spike asked.

Buffy shrugged, "Call it a hunch. She trusts you to protect her from the boogiemen, big and small. Angel's been put in his place, at least for now. If Angel thinks something else is coming, then we have to make sure that it doesn't touch her. You have to make sure of that. And, I know you can do it."

"I hope you know what you're asking, Love," he heaved a sigh and closed his eyes against the flashes, in his head, of the horrors he had seen when he was at Pavaine's mercy, "If even a speck of what Pavaine showed me comes to pass," he swallowed the stone of sorrow that lodged in his throat. He felt it settle somewhere near his inert heart and tried to will away the wetness that was in danger of seeping out of his eyes at the thought of Buffy experiencing any pain at all, "Love, I don't want to lose you."

Buffy's own voice seemed older, somehow, even to her own ears, "Nor I you," she said, sighing, "That's why we have to do what we can to stop it."