Buffy was a bit dazzled, both by the light that seemed to emanate from the space around where he stood, and by what he said. She squinted, trying to reduce the pain she felt, “Homer…” she stammered, “up to whom…?” her breath caught in her chest when she heard a familiar chuckle accompanied by the haunting mannerism that was his, and his alone; he’d tilted his head in contemplation.

That small movement told her who this really was, and it only made her wonder. How much longer? How much more…before this is his reward? And, will I be able to let it happen? Can I let him rest?

“Proper English,” Homer smiled, “How very un-Slayer of you, Elisabeth.”

The heat rose in her face, and her eyes darted to the floor, “My name…” she whispered, “Is it still for him only?”

“Names aren’t really that important. But, right now, they’re all he has. For him, they help define him and his world, so I let him keep them,” his eyes glinted at her, “You know who I am, in your heart; and yet you don’t say it. Why?”

“I’m still in awe, I guess,” Buffy admitted.

Homer grinned knowingly, nodding his head slightly, “We’ve both been there and back, Love.”
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He could remember the light, could see it, just out of his reach. He tried to reach up to the light but the burning took his strength from him.

There was pain. So much pain, that he wanted to cry out, but the fire took his voice. But he could still see the light. * I’ll do anything! Just let me see the light. That’s all that matters- keeping the light. It’s so beautiful and warm… Anything for Her…just stay. Buffy…please. *

The light touched him sometimes. And, the pain was stunning, almost as bright as the light. * Oh…Buffy…please. Don’t leave me…*

Slowly, the nova that drew him to it became a hazy corona, one that he strained to see. His body burned with the effort. He had to reach the light before it faded, and left him in the cold.

*Buffy…I’m so cold…can’t see you. Please. Where did you go? *

The pain of the fading light was worse than the burning, worse than the dark and the cold. The fire that consumed him took his scream…

Joni woke up and knew something was wrong. She looked around her darkened room. Her eyes darted to the band of colors on the wall, and the toys in her closet. There was so much here, yet something was missing.

Her Daddy was scared, and he was hurting. Sometimes the bad things came in dreams.

Are they here, Daddy? Are they here…?

She had to help him.

She carefully climbed out of her sleeping bag, and looked around for Spike. She was never without him. He would never have left her alone. He loved her too much.

As she turned the doorknob, and moved the giant door back, she noticed the light that was coming from downstairs. She wanted the light, but her Daddy needed her. He needed the light more.

Maybe…if I’m good…I can make it stay… “Don’t worry Daddy,” she said softly as she crept by the place where her Mommy and Daddy slept, “Spike will help. I just need to find him. He loves me too. He’ll stay for me. I can make the bad things stay away, Daddy,” she frowned in determination, her voice tightening and hurting her chest because she knew her Daddy was hurting, “I promise.”

The light pulled at her. She went down the stairs, drawn by the light she remembered.

Spike was rescued from the terror of sleep by the soft cooing of a dove from the other side of the door. She sounded so sad, and even though he felt a pain deep within him, he followed her pull because she needed him.
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“Are you real?” Buffy asked.

“Yes, Elisabeth. I am real,” Homer’s eyes twinkled dimly, “I’m very real. And, even if you hadn’t called,” he spoke softly, his greying eyes drifting askance, to a point beyond her, “I would have come,” Buffy couldn’t help but notice the tremor of emotion in his voice, “I couldn’t stay away…” he began moving slowly, as if he were being pulled by something. With shining eyes and aged, raged speech, he pleaded with her, “Help us, Elisabeth,” Homer closed his eyes, and Buffy was suddenly overcome with a sense of vertigo and her stomach sank as she watched the old man falter and stumble, “Please…” he gasped.

Buffy felt tears sliding down her cheeks. The Slayer dreams…Oh, God! “…How?” she begged, her voice becoming strident with desperation.
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Oscar wasn’t sure how long he’d been here with Liam, but he could see, and through the bond of the Aurelius line, the line he, and Angelus, was a part of, was able to feel, he could tell that his time with Liam was coming to an end.

He felt his brother’s pain- as acutely as he did little Diana’s.

He looked, with a combination of revulsion and pity, at the disheveled man that was his captive, “Well Liam,” he sighed, his amber gaze blazing in the dark, “It seems that, though I want it so bad I can taste it, vengeance is not mine,” his tone of voice made the man’s blood quicken and he began to wonder if he was indeed about to die, “…And,” Oscar continued, his tone dripping with sarcasm and deepened because of his fangs, “I really hope that I didn’t break your jaw, because you will be talking,” he grinned at the frightened look in the man’s eyes and the sheen of sweat that shone on his face, “You see, Lawson was on the nose. But he didn’t know it,” he shook his head and clicked his tongue, “And I know you didn’t tell him. You always wanted to be superior, didn’t you? Unfortunately,” Oscar’s tone turned grim, “you get to live. I’ve kept an eye on Spike, through all the ebb and flow of the waves. But, the one thing I’ve lost track of is the one thing he needs. I’ve lost track of the amulet; but somehow, I know you haven’t. It’s the key here. I know you know where it is…”
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Watching the avatar she knew was somehow a part of him stumble was like a knife in her heart. And, she wondered how she could save him, “Please tell me,” Buffy cried, as she saw his face clouding, trying to hide the pain. She stepped forward, worrying when the light around him seemed to dim, “what’s happening?”

The question died in the swell of a little girl’s voice, “Papa,” she rushed up to him, undeterred by the glow around him; she didn’t see any of that, her small hands tried to minister to him as he knelt, trying to fight off a wave of sudden nausea, she only felt his pain, “are you hurt?”

Buffy watched with glistening eyes, as Homer comforted her, “No, Joni,” he shook his head as he smiled, “I’m just an old man,” Homer’s eyes drifted to Buffy’s and his tone was hushed and a bit nostalgic, “You know that, and I’m tired.”

Joni’s little, sad voice filled the room, “Why did you leave us, Papa?”

Homer’s voice quivered, “I didn’t want to Joni. I’ll always be with you, you know that,” he smiled sadly, drinking in the sorrow in her dark eyes, “even if you can’t see me.”

“Why is this happening?” Buffy asked again.

The soft voice that came from behind her, rang with the same combination of grief, hope, and tears that it had in that tiny chapel in Sunnydale.

And the sound of it struck right to her heart.

“It’s the magic, Buffy,” Spike whispered, “It has consequences.”