In the darkness he could feel the hunger, could feel the earth moving. It breathed. It was a living thing, and it screamed.

It didn’t want him anymore. She hated him, and had thrown him away.

But, he wasn’t alone. Something else was here, and he knew it. It was very old, and it had been his family, if not his friend.

And as he opened his eyes to the hunger and the agony of the thirst and the other’s brightness, he was humbled. Finally and completely, he was brought low, and he wondered; was the other still his family, was the other his friend, or did the other hate him, as the earth seemed to?

He wanted to know all these things, but the hunger was too strong. It hurt too much, so much that he couldn’t speak.

The brightness spoke, moved the air so much that it grated his nerves and his body screamed for mercy. The words…he remembered the words from the place he’d just left. They laughed at him. How dare he escape? He didn’t deserve this. He had stolen it, and the earth had taken it back.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” the words laughed, and the brightness hurt, “It’s not like before, is it?”

He shook his head, and the thirst made his blood sing. He was so thirsty…He growled at the laughing, maddening, peaceful light.

“That’s all right,” Homer soothed, as he watched the newly born vampire rise, and begin to feel the bloodlust flow through him, “Old wine in new skin, isn’t that it?” he smiled, remembering how he felt, so long ago, “Except now, the thirst is tempered, isn’t it? It makes the stomach turn a little more, because you know what it is you need, and what you are. It hurts because you know, don’t you?”

He nodded, and the earth screamed again. Told him he was a filthy, vile creature that belonged in the fire.

Homer understood. “I know,” he said, “I’ll stay with you until your sire gets here. He’ll teach you…and then, you’ll teach Joni.”
************************************************************************
He slept; and as he did, he felt the bond of family around him. His senses spoke to him. They sang to him of love and warmth, of things he’d never thought he’d have, and hadn’t had in a long time. It was so long ago that, there was no word for it.

Was it…? The word was there. He knew it. Was it…forgiveness? Was it…mercy? No. This was something beautiful…there were no words for this, in any language- not for the monster he was, now.

He couldn’t speak of this, even if he had a word for what it was.

It swirled around him, and made him warm. The warmth took form.

A form he knew. A form he loved.

It was she. She was like a summer day…

Joyce was here. He hadn’t seen her since…No. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. She was here, and he felt so loved. So loved that it had to be…wrong. He looked up at Joyce in awe, and she smiled, “Hello, Spike,” her voice sang to him like a thousand angels.

“Joyce, they can’t mean that. Can they?” She had to know. She would know why. What had he done? It was just too beautiful; the sound of their voices was too much to bear. His heart was swelling; burning like it had once before.

He felt it, and he was astonished.

Joyce was pleased with his reaction. He was like a child who’d just been given the one gift he’d always wanted. She smiled at him again, “Oh they’re serious. Deception is the Home Office’s territory. Here, we’re honest, almost to a fault, if such a thing exists.”

“But there has to be some kind of mistake. Nothing I did… No good I did, can justify this!” he gaped.

There must be some mistake. It can’t be true. He was a monster. There was no good in him anymore. That died. He could never have it back.

“Well,” Joyce smiled, “believe me, Spike. You’ve earned this,” her eyes twinkled brightly, “And, I’m honored to be the one to tell you. Thank you,” she sighed, and her voice sounded so sweet. It was like music. A music he’d never thought he’d hear.

It was just…too beautiful. He didn’t deserve it.

“But, how? Who? I couldn’t have…There aren’t enough people…”

He saw tears in her eyes. He’d made her cry. That proved it. He was a monster. “Spike!” she said, her voice nearly a sob, “Don’t cloud the issue with numbers,” she looked around their surroundings and asked, incredulously, “Do you see any scales here, any weights or measures?”

He shook his head, not comprehending her meaning.

“Counting is for others,” she said slowly, “It’s not for you. All the people in the world wouldn’t bring some to where you are.”

“That’s just it. Why…”

“Spike, trust me. For once, don’t question it. Not this. Just take it.”

Something in her voice stopped him. He lowered his head in submission, “You’re right, Joyce. I’m sorry. I’ll take it.”

“Good,” Joyce sighed.

Nearly prostrate with gratitude and awe, if he could have he would have kissed her feet, if she had feet to kiss. All he saw of her was light, and all he felt was love.

He didn’t belong here.

He felt his whole body tighten, waiting for the catch.

She seemed to sense this, “Spike,” she said, with a trace of the sweetness he knew very well, “You’ve done so much. Don’t you want it?”

“Oh very much,” he sighed. “I just didn’t think it was possible. I gave it away…”

Joyce nodded, knowingly, “But soon, beggars will ride, Spike. And the missing piece will finally fit.”

The warmth that had been Joyce disappeared and became something else; it was something new and yet very old.

“Who are you?” Spike whispered.

He didn’t get an answer, but something inside him knew, and wasn’t afraid.

He woke, and the love and warmth he felt propelled him to her. She was family, and he felt her near, “Buffy?” he whispered, calling out to her.

“Here, Spike,” her sweet voice answered; and he was so happy that he understood- even though he felt so empty and lost- that he was “Spike.” Her voice pulled him along, to her side, where he wanted, in his emptiness, to belong, “…and we have visitors.”

There was something about her voice that hurt. Something wasn’t right.

He carefully descended the staircase- and there. In the doorway, was a face from his past; from before, and after, he’d been banished to the half-life of agony and anguish.

Seeing him, he knew his name, so near his only source of light and love, so near his Buffy that he could almost touch her, made him wonder what other terrors were yet in store for him and his family, “Oscar?” He was unsure. Was it really…? He couldn’t remember… “What are you doing here?” he growled.