The early morning light that filtered through the windows was what woke her, and as she reached over to pull him closer to her, a wave of despair rolled through her when she realized she was in the bed alone. Was this just a dream? Buffy felt the panic rising in her as she quickly put on her robe. The air still smelled of him. Her skin still tingled from his touch. It all felt so real.

It can’t be a dream. It just can’t…He has to be here. He just has to. The fear that she had dreamed it all was stuck in her throat as she descended the stairs. The fear warred with hope as she saw the blue and white lights of the Christmas tree in the corner. At least that wasn’t a dream. Her heart swelled when she saw the cascade of brightly colored boxes spilling out from beneath the tree. The mound of gifts seemed to be a living thing. A thing that seemed to thrive on floor and had already eaten half of the floor in the reception area.

Just when Georgina had emptied Santa’s workshop out under that small tree she wasn’t sure. She didn’t remember telling her to leave the gifts. But, she was grateful that Georgie had done it because Buffy found Spike staring at the blinking lights and the boxes, with his head tilted to one side.

He was sizing up his enemy, clearly trying to decide if the box monster was a threat to his family.

Buffy took a deep breath and sighed, really sighed, as if a weight had been taken off of her. It wasn’t a dream. He’s really here.

Spike’s head turned, and the incredulous awe in his blue eyes made her want to laugh with relief, “Okay,” Buffy said softly as she came closer to him; she stood in front of him and looked into his perplexed face, “so maybe Georgie went a little overboard. But, can you really blame her? I mean, technically this is Jonina’s first Christmas. And your first…” her head lowered; she didn’t want to bring him any more pain by mentioning it, but to not mention it would be denying what they’d all been through, and she wasn’t going to do that, “…in a very long time. She’s happy,” Buffy whispered, “and so am I, to have you back. So is Joni. I thought you were just a dream,” she tried to hold back the tears as she felt his arms encircle her.

Buffy was so soft in his arms. He understood everything, but he didn’t have the words. He didn’t know how to tell her that she was wrong; that she was what he’d dreamed of for years. Spike didn’t know how to tell her that she was the dream. He didn’t know how to tell her all he’d gone through to have her and Jonina.

Having her here, warm and breathing, and so alive after all he had seen in that hell, was more than he had a right to hope for. Her closeness and her scent came directly from the dreams that he had to put aside, in order to survive, and it made him tremble with thankfulness, “No…”

The whispered negative made Buffy’s heart sink a little and she looked up into his soft eyes. They smiled even as they glistened down at her, “You,” he whispered, “Love you,” he shook his head slightly, “No dream,” he assured her, “No dream…”

Buffy’s chin quivered with emotion, and she nodded, her head pressed against his chest, “No, it’s not, is it?”
********************************************************************

29 December 1872- London, England-

Oscar paced by the window. He hadn’t slept at all since some fiend- some monster- had snatched little Diana from him. There had been no sign of her, nor any word from an abductor, for nigh a week. And, surely anyone who had taken Diana would know that, if they did ask a ransom, he was well within his means to pay any sum they desired; being a solicitor, he had amassed quite a fortune. A fortune he would gladly give away, to have his daughter in his arms again.

He looked out the window at the harsh morning sun- he had no sense of day or night, now that Diana had been taken; and Mary was beside herself with worry-and prayed, holding Mary tighter to him in his grief.

The sound of horse’s hooves could be heard, off in the distance, crunching softly in the snow. The sound was too rapid to be a leisurely carriage ride, and it seemed to be getting louder, coming ever nearer.

He looked out the window and saw a rider, riding his horse at a gallop, coming down the road and up toward his house. When he looked closer, Oscar recognized the rider as the Dustin boy, who lived with his family on the neighboring estate, and who had searched with him for Diana, to no avail.

Even from quite some distance, he could tell that the boy was frightened, as his horse and he neared the house.

“Is that not Master Dustin?” Mary asked in a quiet tone, a tone that spoke more of her fear than her lack of knowledge.

Oscar put his hand on his wife’s arm, to soothe her, “Mary,” he said softly, “wait for me in the parlor. I will see what news William has, and join you there.”

Her face paled with fright and she nodded slightly, whispering, “Of course,” she said as she turned to leave the room.

The knocker sounded at the door, and Oscar steeled himself for the news he dreaded. His heart beat loudly in his chest and he felt his chest tighten as he opened the door and saw the fear and horror so clearly written in the young man’s expressive blue eyes. He could see the tears begging to fall from the boy’s eyes and he knew. He knew in his heart.

His daughter was dead.

“Mister Lendman…” the boy stammered, “I-I-I am s-sorry…I have,” he lowered his eyes, obviously overcome with the pain and horror of what he had to say, “found Miss Diana. She…” his voice trailed off.

“She’s dead…?” Oscar hoped it wasn’t true, but the look in the boy’s eyes told him that it was, “This is a nightmare. Tell me…” he fought the sob that wanted to escape his throat and his voice seemed intolerably weak as he spoke, “this is a nightmare, and we will all awaken from it soon.”

“I wish I could, Sir. I truly do. But, I cannot. This is no dream. I found…what they did to her…I will remember it for the rest of my days, Sir. I am so sorry for your loss.”
*******************************************************

Oscar could smell his captive’s fear. It was so thick in the air that he could practically taste it. And it made him giddy. He hadn’t touched him and the man was nearly wetting himself because of his fear. And, even though the grieving father that still was within him wanted nothing more than to kill him in the most gruesome way he could, he knew that killing was too good for this man.

As Oscar sat on his haunches, his face just inches from Liam’s, he knew that he could not be seen. Liam’s eyes were forever searching for a tormentor that Oscar would never allow him to see, “You know,” Oscar’s voice rang out in the dark, “this is the season of miracles, and you’re living proof of that. Pardon the pun. But, I don’t see you enjoying what Spike gave you. You still seem obsessed with the life of a vampire, and with Spike in particular. I even found you skulking around his home. Do you think he’s as obsessed with you? Do you think he’ll save you?” Oscar’s only answer was the labored breathing of a frightened man, “Or will he let you rot, because of what he knows you did? I don’t know what I’d do. If I was suddenly back with the one I loved, after years of being gone…” he said casually, “I don’t know as I’d give you even one thought. Especially since you took something from him, something that should have been his. Tell me, Angelus…or Liam, or whatever you want to be called now…how is it you have consistently turned a season of love into a season of pain? Is it your sparkling personality? Maybe it’s your people skills? What do you think?”

Again, his answer was silence.

“Don’t worry though,” Oscar said, “It’s the season of miracles. Maybe you still have one or two left.”