The gloating session was short-lived. One minute Georgie was breathing a sigh of relief, pleased that she’d been able to put that sparkle back in his eyes and help him forget about the cares of the world, if only for a moment; she knew better then to expect him to forget that sweet little baby, but if he didn’t take care of himself and remember who he was, he’d never be able to help her. She had never been so happy to see that evil glint in his eyes. She hadn’t seen him shine like that since he’d given her a blow-by-blow rundown of how he’d beaten the tar out of her ex-boss, Mr. Angel, in that old opera house. Her heart soared seeing it. But now, that was gone. It had been replaced, in a flash, by something far more sinister.

The pace and look of a trapped, wounded wild animal was what he stared at her now. Watching him move like that as he spoke to the Watcher, really made her wonder if this age of instant communication and gratification was such a good thing. There was something to be said for ages past and for the charm of distance. At least back when Spike had been a boy, bad news could be delayed. That wasn’t a luxury these days, not in the age of the computer, the television and the fax machine.

Georgie knew there was no way to escape that tone in his voice. Even if she left, which was unthinkable at this point, his plight would give her sleepless nights. It already gave her nightmares. She tried to busy herself with tidying up the workout rooms. Yes, they had a cleaning service that came once a week, but a girl had to do something to keep from going insane.

Even taking careful inventory of the towels didn’t keep her from hearing snippets of the conversation. Something to do with how he’d come to be at Wolfram and Hart; all this talk of amulets and magic spells made her feel as though she’d been dropped into the middle of some science fiction novel.

She’d learned that, as an employee of Wolfram and Hart, it was better not to ask questions. But she knew better than to think that “Mr. Angel” and his circle of cohorts were normal. That’s why she had liked it down in the motor pool; at least there she knew what things were. A car was a car. There were no weird surprises.

Spike wasn’t normal. She knew that. He was a vampire, like Angel. She knew that, too. But, with him, what you saw was what you got. There was no pretense. She loved him for that.

No, it was more than that. She loved him. And, she loved him because he’d accepted her, imperfection and all, limitations and all, when the world did not.

She loved him, and she wasn’t the only one who did. She knew that too. Because of that, she would follow him on whatever crazy adventures came along. It was the only thing she could do. She couldn’t help it. She loved him. Somehow, Georgie suspected that whomever he came into contact with loved him, whether they wanted to or not.

Georgie was so engrossed in trying to keep her mind off of the details of the conversation she wasn’t supposed to be hearing, that when he stood in front of her she was startled. But, not as startled as he seemed to be, “Spike?” he looked stricken and lost, as if he didn’t know who she was. Her heart skipped a beat, “Oh my…God. What’s happened?”

He tilted his head and squinted at her. Taking a step forward, he asked, “Who are you?”

“What do you mean who…” that’s when she noticed it. The noise she was trying so desperately to tune out hadn’t stopped. Spike was still arguing with the Watcher.

But how could that be, when he was standing right in front of her?

Spike must have noticed as well, because he turned and moved in the direction of the voice, obviously wanting to hear more.

Georgie closed her eyes. This wasn’t happening. She was just tired. That must have been it, because when she opened her eyes Spike was still on the telephone with the Watcher, arguing at the top of his lungs, “Changed…me…how?”

“The spell,” Giles was saying, “…The amulet,” the man’s voice was ragged, “I’m sorry. There’s no other way to say this.”

“Just say it, Rupert!” Spike growled.

“It left a fragment of your soul…in the place where you were. Are you certain you don’t remember?”

Georgie could hear the icy terror envelop the whole place as she heard him say, “ And Joni?”

“I believe so. I don’t know how it’s possible, but that child is yours…by blood. I believe she may have been drawn to you. If she’s not here…then it follows that she is most probably…”

“…There,” Spike finished, “Oh, God. No.”

He did remember. It was torture, watching the one woman he loved even more than his own existence die over and over again. There were bright spots. When he had forgotten his own name. When he’d been driven nearly mad with loneliness, she came. But those were few. So few that, he’d begun to believe that the world he’d dreamed of at night was just that, a dream.
******************************
Joni didn’t want to let him go. If she was dreaming, she didn’t want to wake up. If she was dead, Aunt Willow should let her stay that way, “Oh, Daddy,” she sobbed, “Oh Daddy, I missed you!” She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in the crook of his neck. Oh, God. It was him. He was real.

She was here. She was in his arms and she was real. He’d almost forgotten. Almost made himself believe he’d made her out of his own need, so that he could be rid of the awful loneliness that had followed him here. Almost.

But he did remember her. Somewhere, he remembered his little girl and how she’d smelled of sunlight and soap. It all came back to him, and she was real. He started to sob, big wracking sobs, and he held her tightly to him, almost crushing her, because she was the one true thing.

She was his proof, his one true north. The proof that he hadn’t gone insane in this prison he’d been banished to. And, as much as he loved her, as much as he needed her, he knew she didn’t belong here.

“Joni,” he sobbed, hating to tear himself away from her sweet scent. The scent that meant home to him. Home, and her, “where’s your Mother?”

He could feel the wetness of her tears and the pressure of her head against him as she shook her head, “I don’t know, Daddy. And, I don’t care. I want to stay here, with you.”

“I know,” he whispered, letting his own tears fall, “I know you do. But you can’t. You don’t belong here,” he held her back, to stare into her large, beautiful, loving eyes. Eyes he’d only dreamed of, for so long, and shook his head in astonishment, “However did you get here, Dove? Will you at least tell me that?”

She shook her head, still sobbing, “I don’t care! I don’t care. I’m here. That’s all I care about. That’s all I wanted!”

As much as he wanted to drown in her, to take solace in his sweet little girl, one thought crowded out the joy he felt, “Where is your Mother?”

Joni held him tighter, not wanting to tell him. She brought her eyes to meet his gaze, and then she knew. His eyes were so innocent, so trusting and open. He didn’t know. He didn’t remember.

And she hated herself, once again, for being the means of taking that peace from him, “Oh Daddy,” she said as the tears welled up again, threatening to spill, and this time not from the joy of seeing him again, “don’t you remember?”

He shook his head slightly, in disbelief and whispered, “No,” he staggered back away from her, in shock, “No,” he begged, his head still shaking in disbelief and denial, “She’s not…?” he beseeched her.

“Oh, Daddy,” she cried, coming toward him with her arms up in a gesture of surrender and sorrow, wanting to hold him again, “I’m sorry. She died. Years ago.”
********************************
Giles was afraid that the subject may have brought on some type of shell shock, “Spike, are you still with me? Or, have we lost the connection?”

Spike’s voice was chocked from stress, “No. I’m still here. I’m still here.”

Though there was a time when he wished he wasn’t. A time when he had to lash out at someone. He needed someone to blame.

He dimly remembered it now, but it seemed so clear at the time.

*******************************
OCTOBER 3, 2003

A wall. No, this wasn’t right. Where was that little sprite that seemed to know him? Where did she go?

“Where did you go?”

He turned. There was that green fellow with the horns again, “What…what?”

“You took the whats right out of our mouths. Where’d you go?”

Why in Hell were they asking him? The last thing he remembered before waking up here was burning in the Hellmouth. Then he winks out and hears bits of a conversation about an amulet and someone named Joni. Something about that sent him reeling.

Nothing made sense. He looked around for something to anchor him, a familiar face to pin to the wall. They said something about the amulet. Angelus brought the amulet to Sunnydale. This was his fault.

Spike turned and pointed a finger of accusation at his tormenter, “You,” he croaked, “This is your fault. You brought that bloody amulet to Sunnydale. You would have been the one to use it, until you chickened out!”

“What did you say?” Angel fumed. How dare Spike question his motives.

“You heard me!” Spike shot back, “Abandoned the woman you claimed to love.”
*********************************

Spike couldn’t take it anymore. Talking about this was bringing things up that he’d wanted to keep buried. Bringing up a time of pain that felt like years. He was here now, not in that place anymore. He didn’t have to be without her. He was here. And, so was she. And he would prove it, “Enough talk,” he said gruffly, “We have work to do, and I need to see her.”
*****************************

Spike opened the door of “Veritas” feeling the desperation swell in him. He needed to see her. He needed to know that she was real, that she was alive.

He scanned the dim atmosphere of the club for her. In the sea of demons, vampires and humans that mingled peacefully here, he saw her, sitting on a bar stool at the bar. She looked so lost that he thought perhaps she was a mirage.

He moved swiftly to her, longing to hold her in his arms again, “Love,” he said as he knelt in front of her, “I think I know where she is,” he looked intently into her shining eyes. He didn’t want to see the tears that stood there fall.

He kissed her lightly, savoring the softness of her lips and the sweetness of her taste. He had to remember it. He had to, because it was all he would be taking with him. And he knew, it could be the last, “I’ll find her and bring her back to you,” he whispered as he held her tight, inhaling the scent of her, “I promise.”
**************************