Spike handed Buffy the glass of water. He let out a sigh of relief as the color returned to her face. He brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes, and a look of concern crossed his face as he sat near the edge of the bed, “Sip that slowly.”

Much as she loved being pampered and fawned over, she hated the look of worry in his eyes even more, “Spike, I’m fine,” she assured him, noticing the tremble in his hands as she held them, “I just didn’t have much of a breakfast,” when Spike’s eyes flashed in protest, she added sheepishly, “You know me, Spike,” she reached up to touch his cheek and smiled as he leaned into her touch, “I’m all about Hell gods and apocalypses,” she smiled coyly, ducking his gaze, “My day isn’t complete without a ‘Big Bad.’ But, I’ve been so worried about Jonina that I forgot to eat. Then Giles called, and everything crashed,” Buffy hated seeing that face grow more and more shadowed by the day. More and more like Angel’s. She shook her head, “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Spike nodded, looking deep into her eyes, “Bloody right it won’t. I’m making sure of that. We’re going back to hospital and letting the docs give you the once-over,” he put his finger to her lips when her eyes widened in protest and she took a breath to speak, “No arguments, Slayer. I’m deaf to them anyway, won’t help,” he took his finger away from her lips, and smiled when she brushed a kiss against the tip of his finger as he pulled it away, “ Then, once the doctors have had their say, I ‘m gonna have mine. I was going to be a doctor, you know.”

“No!” Buffy yelped in surprise, “Really?”

“Yes. And I have one prescription for you, Buffy. ‘Eat!’”
**********************************************

As he waited outside the emergency room for the doctors to examine Buffy, Spike knew he was being overly cautious, but he didn’t care. If he didn’t stay ahead of this thing, all the horrors that Pavaine had subjected him to would be more than a psychotic’s parlor trick. They would be real.

He remembered it all perfectly. The sights, the smell and the sound of it; he remembered it, still. As if he could ever forget. Pavaine was right. The soul that blessed him damned him to suffer. Even without it, its echo still rang through him. The things he’d seen would be his constant companions.

Fred once asked him where he went when he vanished from sight as a ghost. He never did tell her the complete truth of what he’d seen.

In their reality, he would disappear for minutes, maybe hours at a time, but for him it was days, even years, at a time. There were times that he wondered if he’d ever come back.

And now, it seemed as if the point at which he vanished was fast leaving the realm of nightmare and becoming reality.

He still remembered the little girl. She was such a sweet little thing, and so trusting. Now his Heaven and his Hell were starting to merge. For upstairs, in that little glass bassinet, that same little girl was fighting for every scrap of life the world could give her.
*********************************

OCTOBER 8, 2003

Only a moment ago he was standing in a laboratory, surrounded by faces he didn’t know, save for Angelus, and his was not a face he considered friendly in the least. Especially after what he did to Buffy, abandoning her to face the Hellmouth without his help.

He loved her? Huh. Yeah, right.

Now he was here, in what looked to be a child’s room, if the disgusting amount of plush toys was any indication. The room was darkened, but he could make out the painting on the wall. Bands of yellow, green, and, was that orange, stretched across a span of blue.

He knew this. That was a rainbow.

A child’s room; he was in a child’s room. A little girl’s from the looks of it.

But what was he doing here?

There was a tiny gasp from behind him. He whirled and met the wide brown eyes of a little girl. She squinted at him, and then looked at the closed window that held the moonlight out. Her large doe eyes slowly came back to his, and she clutched her tattered, floppy-eared rabbit a little tighter and moved him more toward the center of her body. She was using the toy as a shield, and her eyes were tearing up.

She was frightened of him. Something deep in him found that notion detestable. Something in him did not want this little girl to be frightened of him, ever.

He tried to swallow the screaming fear he felt and gave her a little smile. He noticed the bird shaped birthmark on her left cheek as she took a timid step toward him, “Why are you here?” she asked.

“I’ve been wondering that myself, Dove,” he said softly.

The little voice was more confident now, “My Daddy calls me that.”

“Does he now?”

She nodded.

“I see. Well, I can’t take your Daddy’s name for you away from him, now can I? I’ll just have to call you something else,” he went down on one knee, “What’s your name, Princess?”

She hid her eyes behind the fur of her stuffed toy, “Joni,” she said shyly.

“What a pretty name. A pretty name for a pretty little girl.”

“Pretty?”

Her eyes were so open and trusting, and her face was round and plump. She had perfect apple cheeks that were a complement to the ruddiness of her skin. Her hair was a mixture of light and dark. The natural lights of the honey strands were offset by the dark of cinnamon. The light from the window played in her hair, making her a strikingly beautiful girl, “I think so. How old are you, Joni?”

Her little chin jutted out in pride, “I’m five.”

“Well, aren’t you a big girl,” he looked softly up at her and pointed to the rabbit held tightly to her chest, “Does your bunny have a name?”

“Yes,” she whispered, “I named him after the Prince in my dreams. He saves the Princess.”

Spike smiled at that, “Well if he didn’t he wouldn’t be much of a Prince, would he? What is his name?”

There was the light of recognition in her eyes as she stepped forward again. Her eyes held a sad acceptance of him, “Will you save my Mommy, please? She’s sick. My Daddy’s sad all the time.”

His heart clenched. He was about to lie to this trusting little face. He didn’t know where he was or if he’d be back, but the pain on her face was more than he could bear, “I’m so sorry, Sweetheart. I don’t know if there’s anything I can do for her. But, if you tell me the rabbit’s name, I’ll come back whenever you need me, all right?”

“His name is Spike,” she said, “I named him after you.”
*****************************************

IN THE INTERREGNUM

Joyce knew he would be angry. But, he had to have a reason to stay. He’d given up everything for Buffy, and she appreciated his need to rest; to let it be over. She understood that. According to their timeline only nineteen days had passed. For him, though, the time had gone by so much slower. Where he was, where she’d pulled him from a thousand years could pass there before a day was ended.

Joyce knew he’d fight for her. So, she gently guided him to her. Then, she would let the father and daughter bond do the rest. Joni would have to keep him alive until he could pay her back for her kindness.
****************************

Spike’s Hell wasn’t the fire and brimstone type. Oh, he’d been there, sure enough. He’d even felt the flames liking his skin. He felt himself melting away.

That he could take. What he couldn’t stand was knowing that both his girls were compromised. The only thing that gave him any peace was making sure Buffy was taken care of.

With that in mind, he placed a plate full of food in front of her as they sat in the hospital’s cafeteria.

Buffy looked across the table at his expectant eyes, then down at the plate, which she was sure was full of perfectly good food, but the food looked like a pile of unappetizing sludge to her, “Spike,” she begged, “please don’t make me eat this. I can’t,” she grimaced as she pushed the food around her plate, “Can’t I just go home?”

“Nope. Not until you get at least some of that into your system. I don’t want to have to worry about you, too. Jonina needs her Mummy.”

“She needs her Daddy too,” Buffy sighed, looking into his drawn face, “How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

He smirked at her, “Ah, but I’ve got a strong constitution, Love. You know that. This isn’t about me. You’re the one who’s important here,” he pushed the plate further toward her, “Eat.”

Buffy grimaced again as she shoved a forkful of mashed potatoes and gravy into her mouth, “Happy?”

Blue eyes rolled skyward as he grinned, “Blissfully.”
*******************************************

Ever since the battle with the Circle of Black Thorn, Holland was Angel’s constant companion, someone he couldn’t get rid of; like Angelus. Holland kept popping up to remind him what kind of a failure he was. It ate at him and wore him down, like it was doing now.

It was bad enough that he was still nursing the bruises that had started appearing on his skin after the confrontation in the hospital’s stairwell. Now he had to deal with this as well, “What do you want, Holland?”

The grey haired man shrugged, and then winced at the unsightly purple around Angel’s neck, “Does that hurt? It certainly looks like it does. But then, you can’t see it can you?” he shook his head, “I really would hate to be on the receiving end of Spike’s wrath. Imagine what he could do to you if he really tried.”

“Spike can use me as his personal punching bag if he wants. The alternative is not something I want to think about. I’ll ask you again. What are you doing here?”

“Just here to make sure our champion is still on track.”

“Spike will be fine,” Angel said bitterly.

Holland nodded, “Yes. I’d say we’re right on track.”
*******************************