NOVEMBER 1, 2030

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

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

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

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

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

And he really didn't.

He still remembered the conversation very well, even all these years later:
***************************************

APRIL 21, 2005

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes, he remembered that conversation very well. The fire in his eyes was something Angel did not want to see extinguished, and he knew that if Buffy died, all the people that he knew Spike would help would lose a Champion. Even if Holland hadn't told him what Buffy's death would do to him, Angel knew.

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

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

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

OCTOBER 13, 2005

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

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

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

"What?" came Talitha's anguished cry.

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


NOVEMBER 1, 2030

The groundskeeper of this particular cemetery liked his job very much. When it was hot, in the summertime, he kept the grass above his charges from turning dry and brown from the heat. In the fall, he kept the leaves from marring the landscape. And, in the winter he took special care to brush the snow from the stones.

He took care of them all, but for some reason there was one grave, in particular, that drew his attention more than most. Perhaps it was because, in the sea of roses and lilies that he gathered nightly, this one instead was always adorned with a bright bouquet of orange marigolds. They reminded him of the sun, and perhaps that was why, while going on his nightly rounds, William Alistair Dustin received his special care.

Of course, in order to take proper care of that one, he had to work later than was expected, because conditions of his employment here required that he remain unseen by visitors. He understood that. He knew that it was sometimes disquieting for loved ones to know that their dearly departed had been disturbed in any way.

Even if the people who visited them here knew, in their heart of hearts, that someone was taking care of the daily minutia, it was still a difficult thing to actually see a stranger roaming around a loved one's resting place. So, he remained unseen, although with "Marigolds" that was difficult.

That one had visitors well into the wee hours of the morning.

As his wristwatch told him it was three a.m., he was grateful for the small cottage that he had on the grounds. He liked the arrangement; keep the cemetery neat and tidy, in exchange for room and board. And the neighbors were quiet, which suited him just fine.

He knelt and picked up the bundle of blooms from the ground, and smiled, "Well William, I see the wife's been by again. She's a different one, isn't she? I bet you already knew that, though," he looked down at the flowers in his hand, his head tilted in thought, "There's something about these flowers. Something specific. She leaves them every day, and it's always the same. Marigolds are so different, after rows and rows of roses. Don't get me wrong, roses are beautiful, but the marigolds are so refreshing. Almost like she's giving you a bunch of sunshine every day. It's like she knows you miss it."
*****************************

Buffy Anne Dustin hated this. She hated walking through cemeteries now, she hated it more now than when she was an active Slayer, and she'd hated it so much back then that she didn't think she could hate it more. At least back then there was a chance of spotting him lurking somewhere close. Now though, she knew all too well were to find him, and she hated it so much.

She was so young then, so much younger than she was now.

And to think, it'd only been two years. No not even that long. It had been six hundred and ninety-eight days, and nights, since he'd died. And, each night was just as fresh, just as raw, as the first one had been.

Buffy approached the gravesite with an ache in her heart. Spike had always been her rock. When she'd first gotten sick, and her world became a haze of pain and needles and antiseptic, he'd stayed with her, even though his eyes told her how frightened he really was, he still stayed with her.

The only thing that gave him any focus outside of her was taking care of Jonina. Willow had told her that their daughter had been the only thing that kept him from sinking into madness when she'd taken ill.

They had seen what the virus could do to a Slayer, and how quickly it took hold. She and Spike had been working on isolating it almost from the moment Jonina was born.

She remembered that Spike took it hard each time a Slayer was stricken with the virus they called "Cassandra's Lace." He seemed to take the virus's appearance as a personal affront to him. And when Joni started showing signs of being a Slayer, nothing else seemed to matter to him more than finding the answer to the puzzle. He seemed driven; haunted by something he wouldn't share.

Then, despite her best efforts to conceal them, she started showing symptoms. She shrugged them off at first, but there came a time when even she could no longer deny what was happening to her. She was dying, and they both knew it. They'd both seen it happen to other Slayers, and now, it was happening to her.

She had accepted it. But, Spike had not. Because of his stubborn refusal to accept their world the way it was, she was the one standing in a graveyard, putting flowers on a grave she never really thought she would ever see. Because of him, Joni was living in a world that once again contained an army of Slayers, albeit a small one, who were now beginning to forget what peril they had been in just a few short years ago.

And she was standing here. That fact alone should have brought her happiness, but it didn't. And the reason it didn't is because, once again, he'd sacrificed himself to save her.

Buffy looked at the stone that bore his name, and tried it out on her tongue. It had been so long since she had been able to stand here. Being here, looking at his name, hurt her in a place she couldn't name. It evoked a pain that she couldn't give voice to. So when she heard her voice sounding like a thimble, small and tin-like in her ear, saying his name aloud, it didn't seem real at all.

She read the stone aloud. It was the eulogy she knew he deserved, but never received, at least not from her. It hurt too much to believe that he was gone, "William Alistair Dustin, beloved husband, father, friend, and champion. Departed, but not forgotten, December 2, 2027," Buffy kissed her fingers and pressed them to the letters of his name, "Who is it that takes care of you now? Where are you? I tried to find you, you know," Buffy felt her lip tremble and tasted the salt water as it slid down her face to her lips, "Just to know where you are. Joni and I miss you so much," her face twisted in sadness and anger. She knew her thoughts were disjointed, but she had so much loss in her right now, that she had to give it an outlet, "Willow said you weren't in Hell, and that's good," she sniffed and wiped her eyes, "But she said you weren't in Heaven either. It didn't make sense. I mean vampires don't die of viruses! They just don't. Okay, there was that time that Angel got sick because of that poison, but I saved him. But when you got sick, you wouldn't let me save you. Why?" she sobbed, "When you were feverish and delirious," she bowed her head, reliving the pain of her loss, "while you could still talk, you kept talking about a trade, some kind of bargain. I know you were in pain. I know it. But you never complained, not once. And then Angel tells me about some kind of prophecy. I tell you, Spike, I was so angry, I could have staked him. Joni nearly did. And now, I come here, every day, just in the hope that, some way you'd find me," Buffy left her bouquet for him, "I know it's silly. But, I wish you were here," she said as she left the graveyard.
************************
IN THE INTERREGNUM

Spike nearly jumped for joy, "I thought you'd never ask, Love."


OCTOBER 13, 2005

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

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

Oh, how he could relate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Understood," Spike said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

IN THE INTERREGNUM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Have you been to the morgue?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

OCTOBER 16, 2005

He put his hand to the glass, afraid that the tiny bundle of pink on the other side would evaporate if he touched her. Or was it that he was afraid to touch the little ray of sunshine, for fear that he would disintegrate? He wasn't sure. He did know that that little girl had been through more in her first forty-eight hours of life than most went through in fifty years.

She'd fought her way here, and now she was fighting to stay. She had no idea how cruel this world had already been to her. It had taken her Daddy and her Mum before she had even been born. She was new to this world, and already an orphan.

Seeing that painfully small bundle of life wriggle in her incubator made him feel his true age, perhaps for the first time. He remembered that, when he was human, infants that small didn't survive. Now looking at the wires and the machines that aided her, he was saddened by the intrusiveness of modern technology. He wouldn't have blamed the little thing one bit if she decided that the world she had crashed into was too cruel and too hard to stay. Spike wouldn't be surprised if she chose to leave, because something in him said that she knew there was no one to protect her here.

No one, that is, except for him. And, he wasn't sure he could do it.
*************************************
IN THE INTERREGNUM

He spun her around again, "Joyce, how did you do it? I'd given up. Really, I had. I knew it belonged to Angel. Didn't much care for the idea, but I knew what I'd given up when Drusilla had Buffy. I would have given up anything to have her. My eyes were open. I knew that I'd never be with her," his voice was overcome with emotion, "Especially after what I did to put things right. I'd accepted it."

Joyce was swept along with Spike's emotions, "I know you did," she choked, "That's why I couldn't leave you there. Buffy was so lost without you, even here. She hurt. I couldn't let that happen," she shrugged, her eyes twinkling, "What can I say, I couldn't wait."

Spike raised an eyebrow, "Joyce, you have no idea how much I love you."

"Spin me around one more time and I might start to have one," she laughed.

He shrugged. He could never resist a Summers woman, "If you insist," he smiled, whirling her once more. When he'd set her an her feet again, he asked, "Where is that beautiful wife of mine?" he sighed, "It really has been forever. I miss her so much."

Joyce smiled and shook her head, "Not half as much as she missed you," Joyce stepped back and pointed off into the distance, "She's been waiting for you. I think you had better make an appearance. She still doesn't believe it. Neither does your daughter."

He smiled, "Well, seeing is believing, isn't it," he winked at Joyce and gave her a kiss on the cheek, "I'd better go. Thanks again," he said as he walked toward Buffy.

"You're welcome," she sighed as she watched her family reunite.

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, " 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," he smiled at the beautiful emerald glow of love in her eyes, "I don't ever want to leave you again."
*********************

Buffy hadn't wanted to leave him there. Talitha's death had been a shock for them both, and it truly was a miracle that the baby, tiny as it was, had survived this long. Spike had refused to leave the baby's side so she didn't want to leave his. After all, she'd argued, they were a team, and a team doesn't work if there's only one member. It also doesn't work if her teammate collapses from hunger and exhaustion. But he had insisted that she go home and get some rest. Spike told he to come back at sunup, explaining that her arrival would keep him orientated as to time.

She had reluctantly agreed. She had done this for two days straight.

As she stepped off of the elevator onto the neonatal unit, she was glad she'd remembered to pack two thermoses of coffee. One thermos was filled with black coffee; the other was filled with coffee that was laced with pig's blood. She was glad she was here now, because it looked like Spike hadn't moved a single muscle in over twenty-four hours.

Buffy waved at the charge nurse at the desk, she remembered that her name was Tara, as she walked by. Buffy saw the concerned look that passed over the nurse's face as her eyes drifted toward the haggard man who stood at the nursery window. They were fleeting glances that Buffy wasn't meant to see, but she did. Buffy heard the whispers too. The staff had begun to murmur that they had never seen such devotion in a father. They were starting to worry about his health. Buffy sighed as she came up beside him, gazing down at the little warriors in their bassinets. They were all warriors. Every baby in this unit was fighting to stay alive.

Buffy silently poured the thermos contents into a cup, and handed it to Spike, "Here," she handed him the cup, letting her fingers brush lightly against his but never taking her eyes off of the window, "breakfast is served."

Spike felt a shock of warmth shoot through him at her touch, but couldn't afford to take his eyes off of that little baby he'd only just realized he'd loved from the moment he saw her. His eyes remained fixed on the window, "She's so tiny, Love," he whispered, "Her skin is translucent. It's as thin as paper," he gasped involuntarily, the fact that he did not need to breathe forgotten completely. Buffy noticed his slow, regular breathing. It was almost as if he was trying to teach her how to do it, willing her to live, "She's a paper doll. So delicate," he looked at Buffy in agonized wonder, "How can she trust me?"

"She's new, Spike. They all are. Trust is the only thing they know. It's all they can do," Buffy brushed her fingers against his as he held the cup, "Now drink up. You're starting to worry the nurses," she lowered her voice, "And me."

He acquiesced and took a small sip from the warm cup, "Better?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Tons," she sighed as they walked the short distance to the parents' lounge area on the unit. She took his hands in hers as they sat down on the old sofa that was trying to make the antiseptic hospital seem a little less antiseptic, "Giles finalized the paperwork. By this afternoon," she pointed to the glass enclosure, "That little bundle of pink fluff in there will have a home to go home to," Buffy smiled shyly, "She'll be a 'Dustin,' officially."

"If she makes it home," Spike said grimly.

Buffy's eyes flashed with fury, "Don't you dare give our little girl a death wish! Hasn't she been through enough?"

Spike's eyes were downcast, "Certain sure, Pet. May be she's been through too much for someone so little."
*************************************

IN THE INTERREGNUM

Spike gave her one last hug before letting her fly, "Well Dove," he said with pride, "it's show time. Remember what I used to sing to you when you got scared?"

Jonina tilted her head, trying to pull the memory up into her conscience mind, "Yes, Daddy. I think I do."

"Well it still applies. Whether you hear me, or not, I'm right here," he nodded firmly, grasping her tighter, "Know that."

"I do, Daddy," she said as she melted from his sight.
**********************************

Buffy tried to soothe his nerves, "Don't worry Spike, we'll find out exactly what killed Talitha. Giles is working on it right now. He flew her body all the way back to Rome. Everyone in the Council is working on it. Dawn has all her people working on it," she drew his eyes up to her and marveled at just how blue they were, even though they were clouded with worry and weariness, "She's just like you Spike," for an instant Buffy saw his eyes flash with horror. Buffy knew that he worried about her. And now, with Dawn's new position working in the Council's laboratories, he worried for her even more than usual. She shook her head, trying to clarify, "No, not like that. She just loves to sink her teeth," as his eyes widened, Buffy realized the comparison wasn't helping at all, and she spoke faster, "Not literal teeth, Spike! She just loves a challenge," she smiled at him, "And she loves bossing Illyria around, too."

"Doesn't surprise me," he smiled weakly at her, "She always was a bossy bint. Just like her sister."

"Hey!" Buffy gave him a playful slap on the arm.

"Sorry Love, but it's true," he smiled a playful smile, "It's what I love most about the both of you. You know what you want, and you know how to get it."

Buffy's face scrunched in confusion, "You did know of me three or four years ago, didn't you?" she looked down bashfully, "I wasn't exactly known for my communication skills."

Spike chuckled, and rubbed his thumbs along the back of her hands affectionately, "Might have heard of you, yeah. My nose certainly remembers you."

Buffy winced. She often wondered just how many times she had broken Spike's nose over the years, "Sorry about that."

"Think nothing of it," he nodded toward the empty plastic cup that once again rested on top of the thermos jug, "Thanks for this."

"I knew you'd be needing it," she said as she strolled with him back to the nursery window.

Buffy saw how small the baby was. She looked like an astronaut floating in space with only wires and tubes to keep her company. To Buffy it seemed cold and unfeeling.

Suddenly an idea struck her. She knew how tactile Spike was, and she knew that this was something that they all would need if they were going to be a family.

"I'll be right back," she said as she left to get the nurses' okay to go ahead with her plan.

As Spike watched her talking softly with the nurses, he looked back at the glass and wondered if he would be a good father. He wondered if he could be tender enough to care for her, yet tough enough to protect her from this world that had already dealt her such devastating blows.

He didn't know if he could do it, but he knew that if he didn't try, he would be letting her down. So he promised her that he would do his best. And he promised her that promise with his whole heart.

Just as he made that promise, his ears picked up a slight jump in her heart rhythm just before the machines started to beep and click, and whirr alerting the doctors and nurses of the change. The nurses swarmed in with stark looks on their faces, ready to give whatever help the child required.

At first, Spike was alarmed. But then a strange sort of calm seemed to settle over him as he whispered to her, "That's it baby. You light up. You let them all know that you're here and that you're strong. Daddy's here now. I'll be right beside you. I'm never leaving you," he smiled to himself, "I even have a name picked out for you. I'm sure your Mum will agree. I think I'll call you Jonina. I'll call you Jonina Irene," he nodded, as it seemed to fit her, "You're my little 'Dove of Peace."

He held Buffy close as she came back to stand beside him, saying, "Come on, 'Daddy,' let's say hello to our daughter."
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