Spike fumbled nervously with the cap and mask that the nurse had given him to wear. He looked sheepishly up at Buffy, "I don't know about this, Love. Are you sure I won't frighten her, looking like this?"

Buffy stood on tiptoe to help him pull the sterile cap over his ears and to whisper to him, "Love," she brushed her lips against his ear, "there are so many things that she's worried about right now, seeing those bright blue eyes of yours," she stood back to be sure everything was in place, "well to be honest, I'm a little jealous. How could she be scared of you when the cap matches those eyes?" she shrugged turning him and giving the mask tie one last check, "Now, why don't you and she get acquainted," she said as she opened the nursery door and let him step through once she was certain his feet were covered with plastic booties.

Spike felt like an alien stepping into that room. Never had he felt more like a bull in a china shop then he did at this moment. He was never more afraid to move a muscle. Rows and rows of paper dolls, and they all looked so breakable. He searched the room for a friendly face, someone to show him what to do. He found his savior in the nurse in the pink smock that smiled at him with her eyes, she had to, the eyes were the only part of her face that was uncovered, and showed him to the baby girl's bassinet.

His knees were shaking as he sat in the rocker next to the child as she lay in her incubator. He was unsure of what to do next. He wasn't even sure if he could touch the sides of the glass cradle that held her without causing her harm.

The nurse noticed and said kindly, "Mister Dustin?" she asked sweetly, "Do you see the holes on the side of the isolet, the ones that have the elastic stretched across them?"

He nodded.

"Good. You can put your hand through that hole. The other side is kind of like a windbreaker with elastic around the cuff. It will stretch to fit your hand," her eyes smiled again, "You can put your hand through, as long as you're wearing gloves," at his alarmed look she added, "I'm sure she's just fine. But considering that her arrival was a little bumpy, we want to make sure her immune system is strong. It is pretty weak right now. But she's getting better. And she'll get better faster if she knows her father's touch," she nodded encouragement, "Go on, touch her."

He looked up at the nurse, "You're sure it's all right? I don't want to hurt her."

The nurse's eyes smiled again as she looked down at the cradle, "Well, would you look at that," she seemed astonished, "You may not be sure, Daddy, but she is," she pointed a finger at the baby, "Look," she said, "I think she heard you. And I think she knows who her Daddy is. She's looking right at you."

Spike turned in time to see two little brown eyes staring at him as if to ask him all the questions in the world, starting with the one every child seems to ask, "Are you my Daddy?"

He blinked. This little baby was looking at him as if he were her world. Which Spike knew would work out nicely, because at that very moment she was his entire world.

His vision was eclipsed by the smallness of her. Everything about her was small, too small, and it brought tears to his eyes to see her struggling. To see her tiny feet as the kicked weakly at the air, her hands, that were so tiny that Spike was sure that the whole of her hand could fit through the wedding ring he wore on his finger, balled up into wee fists, as if to take on the world. And her heart; Spike could actually see her heart fluttering in her chest with the speed of a Hummingbird's wings.

He was so in awe of her that when that hand, that tiny, little hand was actually pressed up against the walls of her cage, he audibly gasped. She was trying to reach for his finger as it ghosted up against the barrier between them.

In that instant he knew what to do. His cautiously slid the fingers of one hand through the opening to touch her lightly with his fingertips. He started with the top of her head, and slowly made his way down to the soles of her feet. Spike was careful to use just the tips of his fingers because his palm alone would have covered her completely.

As his fingers felt the tiny bones in her hands and fingers desperately trying to gain purchase as this giant suddenly invaded her world, all the muscles seemed to come under her command at once and she closed her fingers around the tip of his index finger, and would not let go. He felt the pressure of her fingers around his and was amazed. For someone so small, she was exerting strength that was the equivalent of a vice just trying to hold on to him.

Right then his heart melted, "Oh, hello cutie," he whispered, as he felt the pressure of tears building up, "It's me. I'm your Daddy. I don't really know why you chose me. I think you might not know what you've gotten into, Dove," the skin of her forehead seemed to crease a little. It was as if she were asking him if he'd lost his mind; of course she knew what she was signing up for. Would there be any other person, any other family worthy of her time?

He chucked as the pressure around his finger increased, "Oh, so I'm the daft one, am I? Well, if you insist. You know, with all due respect to your Mum, I think you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," Spike winked at her, "And believe me when I tell you, I've seen more than my fair share of beautiful women. I promise, I may not always so it right," he smile to himself, "and sometimes it may look like something else, but I'll try to protect you. Can you hear me, Jonina?"

Spike cocked his head to the side, scrutinizing every detail of her, committing her to his memory. He took note of the velvet feel of her skin, and the brassy timbre if her blood as it rushed through her little body.

Spike detected a slight hitch in her breathing. It was so slight that the machines that she depended on hadn't even picked it up. Perhaps he was being over vigilant. He tried to dismiss it. But, he began to notice a slight discoloration on her left cheek and called the nurse over, thinking that it might be a sign of something threatening. He was so unnerved by the sight that he had to make sure he had full control over his baser instincts, so as not to alarm anyone, before voicing his concerns, "Nurse, there seems to be a variation in her skin tone, around the arch of her cheekbone," he tried to keep his tone calm, his eyes flicking toward the gages that monitored the oxygen content in the isolet. The monitors indicated nothing amiss. But, he could sense something was off, and if it wasn't remedied soon, the baby could suffer brain damage, or worse. "Nurse," Spike stuttered nervously, "I'm no expert but, her skin seems a bit blue. Is there something wrong with the oxygen flow to her cradle?"

The woman in the veil of pastel pink came rushing over, her brows furrowed with cautious worry. She checked the monitors and let in an involuntary breath while pushing buttons. Her voice tried to sound calming, but Spike knew he'd been right. He knew it.

"Everything checks out. Why don't you let us examine this little princess," she said as she quickly ushered him from the nursery, "We'll keep you informed Daddy. Don't worry," she said as she closed the door, effectively cutting him off from the only person who truly loved him, without question.

He was alone again. Set adrift.

Then, as if by some miracle, Buffy appeared. And, he held tight to her, for dear life.

Buffy quickly undid Spike's face mask as she watched tears roll down his cheeks and tried to comfort him, "Let's go home," he whimpered in protest, his body stiffened in sympathy for the pain the child was going through with strangers swarming all around, "Just for a few hours," Buffy was saying, "I can bring the car into the underground parking lot," she peppered his tear-streaked face with kisses, "Meet me there. We'll both get some rest. Then we'll be back. I promise."
*************************************

IN THE INTERREGNUM-HOME OFFICE

Holland slammed his fist on his desk, in a rare show of temper. He had worked too hard and for too many years to let a child ruin the Senior Partners' plans.

Every contingency was planned for, and countered. He had the right mix of envy, fear and of course, the extra dose of Angel's paranoia only made it sweeter.

He looked at the figures again. He must be missing something. What was he missing? Why was he losing? He knew it wasn't the Angelus angle. No, it couldn't be that, he had Angelus so spun, so lost in a miasma of displaced guilt, that Holland was sure he actually had him convinced that the child was an agent of destruction.

He was sure that Angel had no idea the power she actually wielded. He'd made sure of that. So what was thwarting his plans?

It was miniscule, Holland knew that, and as he looked at the reports that were strewn across his desk, he knew he had to find it.

The blur of words on the paper melted into focus on the one factor Holland hadn't considered. And he hadn't considered it because in the Home Office it didn't enter into the picture.

"I don't know how, but I have to find a way around this."
*******************************

Angel watched, from the safety of shadow, as Spike peered down at the infants in the intensive care unit. He looked exhausted, and perhaps that way the reason he was able to get this close to his target without being noticed. Spike was too focused on the newborn to notice him and that was good.

He had waited for hours for his opening. And it finally came in the guise of a caring wife.

As Buffy led Spike to the parents' lounge, Angel drew the mask up over his face, completing his camouflage. Angel silently made his way into the sterile room. He knew his disguise was perfect because no one questioned his presence near the children. If Spike were watching, he would only see another nurse in a sea of nurses.

He strode up to the monitors that watched over the little girl, pushed a few buttons, and walked away. No one even blinked as he left the room and then the hospital, and took refuge in the sewer tunnels beneath the city.

Now, all that was left to do was wait.
**************************

Buffy led Spike past a very worried looking Georgina, "Close down for a while George," Buffy mumbled as they went by, "No calls. Tell people that there's been a family emergency or something."

George nodded, "Already done. We've been closed down for three days now."

"Good. If you hear anything...

"I know where to find you."

As Georgina Roberts watched them go up the steps, she put the finishing touches on her letter. She knew it wasn't much, but maybe it would help them through the hard times.

She hit the last few keystrokes, then reread it before hitting print:

Dear Spike and Buffy,

I know I'm just a secretary here, and right know there are bigger things to think about than my opinion. But,
since the baby can't speak for herself right now, I'm sure I speak for her when I say that she's strong, and
she'll make it.

I say this from experience. I was a baby who was in such a rush to be in this world that I came even earlier
than she did, and I'm still here. All that little girl needs to survive is time and a little love. And you both
have those things, in excess.

That is a very lucky little girl, and I think I might be a little jealous.

Georgina

She pressed print and placed the letter where she was sure they would find it, made sure to forward all the dojo's calls, and left for home.
**************************

Spike finally drifted off to sleep. He didn't want to sleep, but his body had taken over and wasn't listening to him anymore. Vampire or not, going three days without sleep would shut down anyone's system. And Buffy was glad that the lines on his face had finally smoothed out. The blood he'd taken did help, but not much.

She lay down next to him and he seemed to melt into her embrace. He purred softly as her scent invaded his sleep, "She'll be all right, Spike. I know she will. With you in her corner, she's already a winner."




Spike looked so angelic when he slept. The only things that gave a hint of his true age were the small scars on his face. Those scars were his badges of honor, but they just reminded her of all the pain he'd been through. Some of the scars were visible, but some were not.

She had years of hurt to make up for.

Spike prided himself on the assumption that he was nothing like Angel. He gloated about it in fact. But, the truth was, the two of them were so much alike it was scary. The only difference that she could see was in how they dealt with things. Angel was the type that would hold things in and let them build up to a slow burn, which, if he weren't careful, would end in an explosion that might take out half a city block, and anyone who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Buffy had been burned in a few of those explosions. So had Spike.

Spike was the type that wore his heart on his sleeve, almost daring anyone to just come along and tear it right off of that sleeve and stomp on it. She knew he'd dared her to, more than once. Spike would tell you when something hurt. And he would tell you loudly.

But even Spike had a breaking point. Even he could be hurt once too often. Even he could become numb and shut down if he'd just seen too much, hurt too much.

Buffy saw the look in Spike's eyes. He tried to hide it, for her sake, she supposed. But, it was there when he looked at her. She knew that look. She'd seen it when she looked in the mirror, before her Mom died. He was looking at her like he knew she was going to die.

She was not stupid. She knew that one day it would happen. She would die, and she wouldn't be coming back. It was just a part of life.

But, she'd never really looked at that part of life from his perspective before, from the perspective of someone who could, quite possibly, go on forever.

What would it be like, to watch things be born, watch them grow and change, and know you never would? What would it be like to watch things die, knowing that you would stay the same?

It could make for a very lonely existence.

As Buffy watched him sleeping, she realized why Spike had clung so tight to the idea that she would, someday, love him. That hope was all that kept him connected to the world. It was all that kept him a part of it.

Buffy had to admit, even the idea of love was a better way of dealing with a world that didn't want you than trying to end it on a regular basis.
*****************************

Angel didn't know why he thought he could hide here. Holland belonged in the sewers anyway, so it wasn't a surprise to see him here. What did surprise him was the fact that the Brooks Brothers suit still seemed impeccably tailored even down here, "Isn't it bad enough you haunt me topside? Do you have to annoy me down here too?"

Holland took in his surroundings in disgust, taking his red linen handkerchief from its place in his vest pocket and guarding his mouth and nose against the stench of the sewage, "You'd think being incorporeal I'd be saved from having to smell things like this. But I suppose that there is a reason a 'dirty job' gets its name."

Angel winced. Holland's voice, his very presence, had always been like fingernails on a chalkboard to him, but it had never been this bad before, "What do you want, Holland?" Angel couldn't keep the whining tone out of his voice, "I've ruined their lives. They'll never forgive me," he shook his head, sadly, "They shouldn't. I've ruined an innocent life in order to save the life of someone who doesn't want me in his life."

Holland took his notebook from his pocket, and consulted it, giving a slight nod; "You're speaking of Stephen, now aren't you?"

"Yes."
******************

Buffy had to do something. She'd tried to go back to sleep, but something made her restless and she had no idea why. She just had a queasy feeling in her stomach and she wanted to hunt down whatever it was that put the feeling there. She wanted to find it, and kill it for making her feel useless. Perhaps it was that their daughter was in the hospital fighting for her life and there was nothing she could do to help.

But, since killing babies was definitely not in the Slayer code, she would just have to settle for beating the stuffing out of the tackling dummy that was down in the dojo.

She was the Slayer. It took actually running away from all that that meant, it took highjaking a bunch of teenage girls into a life they weren't prepared to deal with, to understand what being a Slayer really meant. It meant protecting the innocent. It meant protecting those who could not protect themselves. If she couldn't protect a tiny little girl, then what was she here for?

The more she pummeled the dummy the weaker she felt. She wasn't as strong as that little girl. And, she knew she never would be.

Buffy just hoped that she could be a good Mommy.
********************

Spike had fallen asleep amidst vanilla and roses and had dreams of home and hearth. He knew that in the waking world there were things he couldn't have. Things made up of sugar and spice were off limits to things like him.

He was never one for rules. He'd rather do what he wanted and ask permission later. That tended to be irksome to the Powers, whoever they were. So really it came as no surprise that the closer he got to having just those things, the things he wasn't supposed to have, the more those forces seemed to align against him.

But he knew Jonina was strong. He didn't know how he knew, but he did. He would have her, and Buffy, and they would be a family. They would be all right. He would make sure of it.

Spike reached out in his sleep for Buffy but found the space beside him empty. He sat up and searched the room frantically with his eyes, but noticed that her space on the bed was still warm from her body heat so that meant she hadn't left that long ago.

Spike heard the muffled sounds of a scuffle beneath him. He felt the emotions surging through him: Confusion. Anger. Hurt. His mate, his wife was hurting and needed him.

The baby. Oh God.

Before he knew what was happening, he found himself bounding out of bed and down the stairs, his demon rushing forward to protect her. He let out a territorial growl, his eyes sweeping the dojo for any concealed threat. Everything seemed in order.

That was when he noticed the dummy, its stuffing strewn all about. It looked like a cotton mill had exploded beneath his feet. And there stood his Slayer, his love, in the center of all the fluffy carnage, with tufts of the cotton tangled in her hair, pouting like a lost child, her eyes brimming with tears.

Buffy heard the growl and looked up to see Spike staring at her, his azure eyes smiling as he took in the damage she'd done. She didn't want to wake him, but she had. She'd made too much noise. In his rush, he'd come downstairs in just his dungarees. Those only made him look even more vulnerable to her. He'd even forgotten his boots; he stood there, as the innards of the tackling dummy lay around him, with nothing protecting his feet. His feet looked so small. She looked down at the clouds of white around her, and sniffed, "Sorry. I think I broke him."

Spike nodded, "Yeah, looks that way," he knelt down to pick up a mangled mound of rags and fluff that had once been an arm, and said, "What have you got against old Scarecrow anyway, Pet?"

Buffy let out a frustrated sigh, "I don't know, all right?" she yelled, "I just needed to hit something, and you were asleep so I just…" she shrugged, bringing her eyes up to his, "I don't know how to help," she whimpered.

Spike looked at her eyes. They were so open, for once, and giving. He saw how much she wanted to protect him. How much she truly loved him, and he felt a warmth, the likes of which he hadn't felt before, shoot through him.

He stepped gingerly over the remains of Ray the scarecrow, and took her in his arms. As she fell into his arms, he whispered, "It'll be all right, Love. Joni will be fine."

The question was soft against his chest, "Joni?"

He swallowed the nervous tickle in his throat as he fished the cotton out of her hair, "It's her name. I gave her a name. Figured it would help her to fight, if she knew she was important enough to have a name," Spike looked down at her teary eyes, "You know, show her that someone in this world believes in her."

"Oh, Spike," she choked, "Joni what?"

"Jonina actually. Jonina Irene," he said shakily, "Is that all right with you, Love?"

"It's beautiful, Spike. How do you do it?" Buffy asked, her eyes swimming.

Spike looked down into those shimmering pools of jade and drowned for the thousandth time that day, "Do what, Love?" he asked tenderly, brushing his lips against hers.

"Stay so hopeful in a world that rejects you?"

Spike put his chin up in thought and sighed, searching for the right words to help her understand. He chuckled to himself, "Funny you should ask that, Love," he kissed her again, tasting the salt and bitterness of her tears, "If I didn't have hope I wouldn't be here."

Buffy looked down in shame, "You mean with me?"

"No. I mean at all. I would have died over a hundred years ago," he smirked at the irony, "I mean, I did die and all, but I wouldn't be talking to you. I'd just be some footnote in history. Not worth anything. I had hope that there was something beyond my death. And, I was right," Spike put his fingers under her chin, and brought her gaze up to his, "There was my life," he caught a tear as it cascaded down her face, "There was you. And now there's Jonina."
***********************

IN THE INTERREGNUM

"I don't know about this, Joyce. It seems so unfair to them both. Can't they know? Why can't I tell them?"

Joyce was still surprised at how young he could be, "Now Spike, you knew this was how it would be when you went in Joni's place, remember. You said you understood then. Are you backing out now?"

His eyes went wide with the possibility that this small chance could be taken from him, "No! It's just," his eyes swept downward, "being so close, seeing how they're suffering, and not be near them, not tell them? I don't think I could do that."

Joyce smiled at him, "I know you've never been good with waiting, but, those angels I told you about? They broke so many rules to give you, Buffy and Joni this small chance at happiness," she took him by the shoulders and shook him slightly, "Don't squander it because of your nervous energy. Good things are worth waiting for."
*********************

DECEMBER 6, 2027

The caretaker strode slowly through the grounds. There was a new resident today. He'd observed other interments from his vantage point in the cottage. He'd seen other family members grieve for loved ones lost, and it hurt him, every time. That was why he took his job here so seriously, it was his way of trying to do what little he could to ease the suffering he saw. Every goodbye hurt him just a little.

But for some reason, seeing this widow, and her beautiful daughter saying their final goodbyes, cut him, and it cut him deep.

They were both so young, but they looked so old. The widow couldn't have reached her fiftieth year, but her eyes looked ten times older.

He wondered how someone that young, could look that old. He felt old, working here. But someone that beautiful shouldn't feel old.

He wondered what those eyes could have seen.

The daughter was no different, barely into her second decade and already wise beyond her years. It made his heart hurt. But sometimes when someone is taken away through illness, or unexpectedly, the ones left behind haven't fully let go, and so some part of them leaves with the departed, leaving a ghost where the heart should be.

Because he knew what it was to feel that, he decided to take special care of that little family. He would do what he could to make the hurt less.

He'd waited until well after hours to appear, making sure that she had left the cemetery. And although he felt a weight on his heart, for some reason he felt the need to sing, as he attended to this particular gravesite. It was a song that was an odd one to be singing in a graveyard, if this was a place where gaiety belonged at all, but he sang it just the same, to comfort something that pulled deep inside his bones.

"Baby mine, don't you cry. Baby mine, dry your eyes. Rest your head close to my heart, never to part, baby of mine. Little one, when you play, don't you mind what they say; Let those eyes sparkle and shine, never a tear, baby of mine. If they knew sweet little you they'd end up loving you, too. All those same people who scold you, what they'd give just for the right to hold you. From your head to your toes, you're not much, goodness knows. But, you're so precious to me, cute as can be, baby of mine."

Joni froze. Just as she was about to leave the cemetery, she heard it. Maybe it was because she missed him. Maybe it was because she was so tired she couldn't think straight. But, she'd heard it. Their song; the song that washed over broken hearts and bumped knees, the song that was the last clear thing he'd ever said to her. The song she carried with her in her heart when he could no longer speak. It was there. She'd heard it.

Joni closed her eyes, as a cool wind blew against her cheek, "I love you, Daddy," she whispered as she left the cemetery, "Always and forever."
************************