AUTHOR'S NOTE: The title of this chapter is taken from Robert Frost's poem, "The Road Not Taken."
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Joni liked snuggling in her Papa’s lap. His chest made no sound, just like her Daddy’s, and that made her feel safe. She snuggled in closer; he smelled like hot chocolate. She liked that smell, “Show me, Papa?” she asked.

He shook his head and his eyes crinkled a little at the corners as he looked at her. He bounced her on his knee and sighed, “Joni, you know I can’t. It’s against the rules.”

She pouted, “But Papa…I know already,” she sniffed, her big brown eyes shining up into his dim bluish-grey ones, “in my heart. I won’t tell, I promise. Just this once, rumble for me, like Daddy does. He doesn’t do it, because he thinks it will scare me,” she put her ear to the old man’s chest, and his arm wrapped around her protectively, “But that sound makes me safe. Everything else is scary. Something’s not right, Papa,” she started to cry, “Please show me. Make it safe, Papa. Please? I won’t tell. Please?”

He sighed in defeat. There was no use arguing with her. He was lost; he had lost, and they both knew it.

He would never deny her even the tiniest bit of comfort, if he could provide it to her, “All right,” he sighed, “But just this once,” breathing in the scent of talcum powder that clung to her hair.

Joni squealed with delight as the lines on the old man’s face changed, and she smiled up at him when the comforting roar sang in the air and his eyes glowed of amber.

As Buffy watched Jonina while she slept, she noticed a faint smile crossed her face and she held her toy rabbit tightly. She looked so peaceful that she hated to wake her. She burrowed further into her sleeping bag, “Daddy…” she murmured.

Buffy knew that there was no reason to be hurt by Joni’s unconscious plea. Her Daddy was the only other she had known- for years. It made perfect sense that she would ask for him.

Still, every time she called out for him, it only brought the fact that she had missed so much of who Joni was and what had shaped her further to the front of her mind and heart. There was no escaping it, Spike knew things about Joni and lived experiences with her, which she couldn’t touch. And, that hurt her…just a little.

Joni must have sensed that someone was in the room with her, because she began to stir. Her eyes opened sleepily and she looked up at her mother, who was standing in the doorway of her little room, framed by the late morning light.

She grinned brightly at her, “You look pretty, Mommy,” she said as she wriggled out of her sleeping bag.

Buffy was glad that Stephen had remembered to buy some young girl’s pajamas, because having Joni back had been a shock in so many ways; the nursery was prepared for a baby but not a young girl. She hadn’t expected this. Stephen had, but only because he’d been through it himself.

She looked very pretty in her pale yellow nightgown, “Thank you Joni,” Buffy said softly.

“Daddy’s trying to remember, Mommy. He really is,” she said earnestly, as she scooted out of the top of her sleeping bag, “It’s just hard because you were asleep for so long.”

Buffy was confused, “I was…what, Joni?”

“You were asleep, for a long time. But then, you woke up, and Daddy wants it to be a long time before you go to sleep again,” she said sweetly and guilelessly.

Buffy stepped into the room and knelt so that she was at eye level with her daughter. She was very unsettled by her words. It sounded as if…but how can she know, “Who told you this, Dovie?”

It was only when Joni’s brown eyes became the size of saucers that Buffy realized that a variation of Spike’s pet name for her had blurted out of her mouth. A pet name that, as far as she knew, Spike had only shared with his daughter through the sterile windows of a neonatal intensive care unit.

The expression on Joni’s face told Buffy that she must have heard it more than once, and that it was something special between them.

Buffy held her breath. How would she react?

She had her answer when a large grin spread across her face, “My Daddy called me that! You remember!”

Buffy shook her head, saddened, “No Sweetheart,” she said softly, “I don’t. I heard your Daddy call you that once; before you went away. Do you know where you were, Joni?”

Her face scrunched in thought, then she shook her head, “I don’t really know. But Papa kept me safe, until Daddy came.”

“Papa?”

Joni nodded, “He looked like Daddy…but…he had more lines.”

Buffy saw, in her mind, the man who had told her what he had lost there. The one that told her how much Spike had sacrificed for her, in that world.

Could it all have been true?
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Oscar was right. There was no reason that Spike would rescue him. If he did remember him at all, Liam was sure that any memories he did have of him would be buried beneath all the other horrors he’d seen in X’yxeth.

He knew he had no hope of rescue. No hope of getting out of here. Liam clenched his fist and slammed it aimlessly through the dark until it came down hard on the concrete beneath him and a bright, burning pain shot up through his arm, making him roar in pain.

“Careful,” Oscar intoned sincerely, “you’re human now, and very breakable,” he hissed in sympathy, “I’m sure that hurt. And don’t worry…you will be rescued,” there was a long silence, filled only by Liam’s labored breathing, “After all, you know something Buffy doesn’t. Something that is very crucial to Spike’s ultimate fate and well-being. It’s something you’ve always known. And, you had a chance to avoid all of this, by telling Buffy what you knew. But, you didn’t. You kept silent, by design. You know something about vampires that even her Watcher doesn’t know,” the darkness rang with laughter, “Although what the Watchers don’t know could fill volumes!” his voice became softer, more contemplative, and Liam couldn’t help but be reminded of Spike, and his demeanor as a fledgling; it was something that he had beaten out of him, to make him a monster, “Why didn’t you tell them? Was it an attempt to keep William under your thumb?” he waited for a reply, and upon receiving none, continued bitterly, “Don’t you worry Liam. You will be rescued because you’re the only one who can save him.”
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“Joni,” Buffy asked anxiously, “where is Papa now?”

Joni bit her lip, “I don’t know. I wish he was here.”

“Do you think your Daddy remembers Papa?”

“I don’t know. I think so, though,” her eyes lowered, “He’s scared,” she whispered, “I am, too. Daddy doesn’t want you to be sick. And Papa doesn’t want that.”

Buffy tried to remember what Homer had said. If it * was * real…, “Is Daddy afraid of Papa?”

Joni nodded.

Buffy blinked and straightened to stand, her hand out at her side, waiting for Jonina’s small hand. She closed her fingers around her child’s hand, “Well, remember those presents I promised you?”

Joni nodded eagerly.

“Your Daddy’s downstairs…”

Buffy didn’t even finish the thought before a streak of yellow fabric disappeared down the stairs, and she heard pearls of childlike laughter rising upward, accompanied by a soft purring sound.

Buffy walked quietly down the stairs and was comforted by what she saw. It was true; Spike might not have understood much, but making his child happy didn’t require anything. It was effortless.

She smiled, watching Spike holding Joni in his lap, beaming happily as she tore at the bright paper and ribbons on the boxes.

He was laughing at her excitement as she discovered what treasures were hidden in the boxes. Joni was a child, perhaps for the very first time, and Spike was sharing in her joy.

And when she saw his eyes meet hers, the softness she saw let Buffy know that now he knew- if he didn’t before- that he was home.