He wanted to scream. Didn’t she understand? This was a nightmare, and he wanted it to stay a nightmare. Jonina was all he had, and she was bleeding. The monster had taken his girl away from him.

He wanted to kill it, not bring it to life. He didn’t want to bring it here. He wanted to forget. Why couldn’t she let him have some kind of peace?

Why didn’t she wake him? Why couldn’t she let him forget?

Spike looked at his little girl. Her tiny face was swollen, discolored. The monster had done that to her. It had taken the light from her face, and away from him. His little Dove’s eyes would never light for him again. Why did Buffy, his sweet Buffy, want to bring the monster back to life? Why did she want to bring it here? Here, in the room, with his child…?

Why didn’t she wake him?

“No,” Spike growled, as he felt her close to him again. He wanted the warmth and softness of his “Wife.” He wanted to be close to her, because he was beginning to understand what the word wife meant in this world. And, he wanted that.

But, he was afraid, too. He was afraid she was going to take Joni from him, and make him cold again. A part of him wanted that, wanted to lose itself in the cold again, wanted to be numb because, if it were cold, then he could forget.

And, he so wanted to forget.

Yet, the echo of her warmth, and of what Jonina had been for him, cried out, “I can’t let you!” he hissed, more from hopelessness than anger.

“Let me help…Please?” Buffy begged. She wanted desperately to comfort him, but something about him, something in his voice frightened her, and she backed off, finding herself near the doorway again, against her will. Even though her heart ached for them, so much so, that she was nearly in tears, it was still awful, seeing what Angel had done to him- what she’d done to him.

This was almost unbearable. She was surprised she could even speak. It was so sad, the picture they presented.

Seeing Joni hurt was bad enough; she looked so fragile, like a broken doll cradled in his arms. And, as much as that hurt to see, Spike was worse.

Buffy knew that Joni would heal, given enough time. She was young.

But Spike…She didn’t know if he would make it.

He was weeping, and shaking uncontrollably. He didn’t seem to have control of his body. He was murmuring to her as his hands ran tremulously over her face and body. He was trying to wake her with sounds she didn’t understand. They were primal, not much more than a series of low grunts, but they seemed to make sense to her on a basic level. It was his language.

It was Joni’s language, too. It was her first language.

It was the language of Hell.

And, it scared her.

He looked up, still clutching Joni to him, and Buffy nearly gasped from shock. She had never seen that look in his eyes before. She had never seen that face…He looked dead, more dead than she had ever seen him.

He was suddenly ancient. The lines on his face were more pronounced than they had been. What had he gone through? What had put those lines there? They were deep, deeper than…Had they always been there? And, did she really want to know?

Always. How long is always? A day…A month…A year…?

She didn’t know him. Had she ever? “Oh, Spike,” she whispered.

“Buffy,” Spike croaked, “how…?”

The anguish in his voice almost took her in its wake, “How, what, Spike?” she asked, softly.

“How do I protect her, when I feel…?” his voice faded, once again falling into harsh, feral tones, tones that Buffy could feel slashing at her heart as she listened to them.

The lump rose in her throat, making her choke on the words as she whispered, “I don’t know, Spike.”

The terror in his eyes shot through her, chilling her. He was relying on her for the answers, and she had none. Fear was closing in on her, making the edges blur.

It would be so easy to give up, but she couldn’t do that.

She had always run away. But, not now, not when he needed her.

Not this time. This time, he needed her, and she was going to be there, “I don’t know…” she spoke softly, as she moved toward him again. She put her hand on his arm, silently asking him to let her relieve him of his burdens, both physical and emotional, and she felt his muscles give a little, releasing their iron-like hold, letting her take Joni.

She knew it was a beginning, “I don’t know,” she said again, “But this time, I’m not leaving you alone, Spike.”
*******************************************************************************

As Oscar waited outside the dojo, he hoped that he would be able to spare Elisabeth the grief that his Mary must have gone through; the grief of not knowing what had happened to a loved one. He could remember trying to console her, and Jonina, but he had not known how he could help.

How could he help, when he had no idea who William was?

DECEMBER 23, 2027- NEW ENGLAND-

Oscar looked out at the snow, hoping to block out the sounds of the young lady’s grief.

The words kept clanging in his head even though they were only whispered, “Why, Daddy…? Why…? No, Daddy. Please, Daddy…? No! Come back. I need you!”

The frost that played on the window only served to remind him of how much he had lost, and how selfish he was.

He could smell the sorrow, could hear her cries and taste her tears. William had made him promise…but how? He could do nothing.

Nothing except offer them solace, “I am deeply sorry,” he whispered as he stared blankly out at the new snow that lay on the ground, ‘for your loss.”

“I know,” Buffy croaked, her voice heavy with emotion, as she too looked out at the winter scene that surrounded the little house in a cold, and a strange, kind of beauty, “But, we both knew that one day…this would happen. I just …I was hoping…Joni needed it so much. She almost made me believe. And when I smashed the amulet, I felt a peace come over me…Then Georgie called. He woke up,” she sighed, trying to purge the sadness, “I thought it was over. And now…Joni thinks it’s her fault.”

Oscar didn’t know how to feel about that. To him, Jonina Irene Dustin’s existence was a two-edged sword. Without her, he would still be alone in the world. If she hadn’t had a part in destroying the amulet that had been William’s prison, he might never have heeded his call, he might never have heard it at all. But, it was so insistent…just like the boy he had known.

Without her, he might never have known. He would be alone.

And with her, because of her, he knew…and now, he was alone.

He hated her for that. But, even in the short time he’d known William, he’d grown to love her, too, because William loved her.

Such a short time…and now she was his family.

They.

They were his family, and his only link to William.

And so, as his younger brother had done before him, he would take care of the Slayer, and her kin…until the end of the world.

He looked out at the bright winter sunrise, and was thankful that William had thought of his daughter’s need for sunlight.

Without his forethought, Oscar knew he would not be seeing it, and however painful it was to see it without William, it was still beautiful.

He sighed, looking over at William’s wife, his widow now. She carried herself like a warrior, yet she was so much like Mary too. He understood why William had loved her.

“This amulet…?” Oscar spoke softly, not wanting to intrude in her hour of grief, “What was its purpose?”
********************************************************************************************

Liam had heard that growl before, over and over again. It came from his own mouth, when he was in that Hell. It came when he knew he’d failed, and watched Spike die again.

He remembered it all. And, he knew that he had failed again, but this time, it was worse.

This was a kind of living Hell, and he was responsible for putting Spike in this living Hell. He also knew that there was no way he could make it right.

The fear clenched Liam’s heart as he carefully, and quietly, made his way out of the small bathroom Buffy seemed to have forgotten she’d left him in, and beyond the tiny bedroom that was now a window into Hell. He winced at the pain he briefly saw. Spike holding his broken little girl, and Buffy looked so lost, powerless to help.

He felt his conscience ache once more, as he hoped that both Buffy and Spike would be too caught up in the well of pain to notice his escape.

He sighed with relief as he walked softly down the stairs, his heart pounding in his chest so loudly that he was amazed that Spike hadn’t noticed.

He opened the door and ran. He ran for his life, suddenly sure he never wanted anything more than he wanted to live. And he knew the longer he stayed, watching the last bit of humanity Spike had within him slip away, because of what he had done, the less he was likely to have the life he so desperately wanted, now.

And so he ran. Into the darkness and the cold of night, Liam ran.

And then…something stopped him.

The ghoulish grin flashed brightly in the darkness, blinding him. The beat of his heart paralyzed him, as the darkness held him, embracing him again.

Hurting him.

Killing him.

Oscar swallowed the warm life that Liam had to give, and as the man fell to the ground, lifeless, he opened his own wrist, and placed it near the dead man’s lips. He smiled as he felt the gentle pull, growing ever stronger.

Oscar was pleasantly woozy, lightheaded. His child was greedy. And always had been.

“No,” Oscar breathed, a smile teasing at his lips, “You’re not going anywhere, Liam.”