“Spike,” Buffy protested weakly, “I’m the Slayer, remember? I can go without sleep and still be up for an apocalypse. This is just silly. Jonina needs me.”

“Yes, she does need you. And she needs you healthy. Not many Slayers are lucky enough to have children.”

Buffy dropped her eyes. She didn’t want to see the concern that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his eyes, “You mean most don’t live that long.”

Buffy heard the stress for her come out in his voice, “Please, do this for me. You sleep, Love. Just sleep. You need it. I don’t ask much, Buffy. Do this for me? Sleep. I’ll take care of everything else.”
*********************************

He listened to the steady hush of her breath as she slept. Hearing it gave him the peace he needed. The peace he hadn’t really had since a little girl’s grief pulled him through space and time to comfort her.

At the time, he wasn’t sure of anything. He’d accepted his fate. He’d jumped into oblivion with a sneer. He wanted to see how it all would end.

Thanks to a little girl, he did. And he would do whatever he had to do, to change it.
********************************

IN THE INTERREGNUM

Joyce knew that there would come a time when she’d have to pay for meddling with his fate. But if she didn’t Buffy would be lost.

Joyce had been with her in the Hellmouth. She was with her the second she realized her love. She was with her when she cried at night as her heart bled for him. It bled, and Joyce knew that if the bleeding wasn’t staunched, her little girl, and her future would die and the world would be left without a protector.

Joyce couldn’t allow that to happen. As she watched things unfold, she saw her opportunity. True, she may pay for this later. But, as Spike was sure to find out soon enough, there were worse things than Hell.
******************************************

MAY 21, 2003- 6:45 A.M.-SUNNYDALE CRATER

Watching her sister dig in the sand and debris was heartbreaking. The wind was still, and Dawn wished it would gust because if the wind were roaring in her ears, she wouldn’t be able to hear Buffy sobbing. Maybe if she couldn’t hear her, it wouldn’t be true. Maybe then, Spike wouldn’t be dust.

Dawn didn’t know what to think. She knew that Buffy’s hope was fading as the sun crept brightly over the horizon. Dawn knew that she would never hate her name more than she did now.

It was awful, “Buffy, please climb out of there,” Dawn saw the sun slowly coming over the horizon and heard her sister’s desperate pleas for the one she lost; the one she thought of as a brother, and who died thinking she didn’t love him.

Dawn felt the tears coursing down her face as she looked at the lightening sky, and silently asked for his forgiveness, “Buffy, the sun is coming up. He’s gone.”

“He can’t be, Dawnie,” Buffy sobbed as she kept digging. She looked at Dawn with eyes wide, in desperation, “You didn’t see him climb out, did you?”

Dawn shook her head, “No.” she whispered.

But, Buffy hadn’t heard. A glint of light had caught her attention. She reached for it and found the amulet that Spike wore around his neck; it’s gaudiness glaring happily at her from under the sand.

That was all that was left. Suddenly the horror struck her. He was gone. And in her frenzy, she had disturbed his resting place.

She picked up the jewelry that at once became her most precious possession, and put it lovingly close to her heart, making sure he was safe before she started her climb out of the pit.

In death she finally acknowledged the place where he’d been for longer than she’d ever expected. Maybe from the very beginning, “I’m sorry Spike,” she whispered, as she prepared to start the life that he had died to give her.

She reached the rim of the crater just as the sun came up full in the sky. She looked at her friend’s shocked faces and handed the amulet to Giles with shaking hands. Her throat was raw as the words came, “Giles, Spike is gone,” she choked on the grief looking at her friends, who just hours ago seemed to have forgotten him, “Are you happy now? Are any of you?” Buffy took one last look at the amulet in Giles’s hand, “Giles,” she said as she watched the sun glint off the glass he held in his hand, “That is a murder weapon. When we get to were we’re going, send that thing back to his murderer.”
**************************

OCTOBER 15, 2003

Spike listened to the little girl sobbing, and wished he could hold her, “Joni, I know it hurts. But sometimes Mummies get sick. That happens,” he shook his head, sadly watching her little chin quiver, “Oh Sweetling, don’t cry. Please?”

He saw the longing in her eyes. She wanted to run to him and have him hold her. And he wanted to hold her. More than anything else in the world, more than he wanted to see Buffy again, he wanted to hold this little girl. He wanted to hold her and tell her that everything would be all right. He wanted to make things right for her.

She seemed to read his mind, “But, you can save Mommy,” she sniffed, wiping the tears away with the back of her little hand, “You can. The Prince always saves the Princess.”

“I know, Dove. But…”

“My Daddy calls me that,” Joni interrupted.

Spike berated himself. He didn’t want to break her trust. He didn’t know why he was here, but as long as he was, he didn’t want to cause her any hurt, “ I know. I’m sorry.”

Joni turned to face her closed door and held her rabbit tightly as she mumbled, “My Daddy’s with Mommy. He always is.”

“I’m sure he is,” Spike said.

Her voice was so small that Spike could barely hear it, “But he forgot me.”

Spike shook his head, his voice gruff with denial, “No, Joni. Don’t you think that. I’m not a Daddy, but I know that Daddy’s don’t forget their little ones.”

Joni turned to face him, “Daddy?” she asked in awe.

“No Sweetling,” he said, as his heart broke for her.

“Yes,” she insisted, “I know you. You’re here to save my Mommy. You look funny. But, you’re my Daddy too.”

Spike tilted his head in thought, “What’s your Mummy’s name?”

“Mommy.”

He smiled at that, “Of course it is, that was silly of me. What does your Daddy call Mummy?”

Joni’s face scrunched in thought, “He calls her Buffy when he thinks I’m asleep.”

His eyes twinkled, “What’s your last name, Sweetling?”

“Dustin.”

Reality hit him, and he turned toward the little girl’s door, dreading what lie behind it, “Oh, God,” he gasped, “Buffy…”
************