Oscar took a deep breath. Her eyes were blazing with fire and he had to look away. How to tell her? Should he tell her?

He’d been told how strong, how stubborn she was. He’d seen it himself, that fire, but it was smothered by grief by the time he’d seen it. When he’d seen her, she reminded him so much of his Mary that his whole being ached for her, and would do whatever she asked of him.

But seeing the fire now, so furious and wild in her eyes, it was easy to see why William had loved her, and why he’d been sent here…

DECEMBER 23, 2027- 3 A.M. NEW ENGLAND-

Oscar wanted to leave. He wanted to be anywhere but here, in this room. The pain- even without words, it screamed its presence. This wasn’t his place. This was a horror he didn’t want. He’d just found the one other that might know his loneliness and now that was being taken from him. This little family was being ripped at the seams and he would know why, if it was the last thing he ever did, he would avenge them.

At least he’d convinced her to release him from his chains. At least he could die like a man, with his family around him. He deserved that, to know he was loved and cherished.

No one, least of all William Dustin, deserved to die alone, in the dark, like an animal.

No one deserved to die like Diana had.

The snow was easier. It was silent, and it kept him from having to deal with what was happening. The room was full of sorrow, and it was painful to watch him struggle, and to watch them weep, so he watched the snow.

The room was so loud, so painful. He didn’t want it to touch him. But it had to. He had to remember just what was at stake.

He had to remember, for her.

So, he turned to face it.

Joni looked at her mother with shining eyes. She was a young woman now, but somehow, she looked so small. “Mom,” her whisper was ragged, and painful to hear, “I don’t want to,” her jaw twitched and she spoke through clenched teeth, “Please don’t make me leave. Not when…”

“Joni, please,” Buffy cut her off before she could say the words, closing her eyes to shield herself from what was happening. She opened them again with a cleansing breath, “Do this for me. And, for your Daddy.”

Joni’s gaze fell the short distance to where her father lie, and Oscar’s followed suit. He had to remember this…had to tell her.

He wouldn’t let her forget this.

His face was drawn tight over the blue of veins that no longer worked and hadn’t worked with blood of their own in over a century. There was nothing left of him.

Oscar could feel the bond fraying. Everything in him told him to do what he could to save William, wishes be damned.

“Elisabeth,” he ground out, “what is this?” He was losing the battle for rational thought. He was in survival mode now, and it wasn’t * his * survival that he was concerned with. She just stood there…How could she? That was her husband lying there, and yet, she did nothing. Would have him stand by, when he had it within him to help, if only she would permit… “Elisabeth, please!” he hissed, begging her, “You can’t mean to let…!”

Green eyes flared at him, and he fell silent.

“Joni,” she said carefully, her emotions controlled, like a dormant volcano, “please leave now. Oscar and I have to talk.”

Jonina’s eyes widened, but she said nothing, her face set in determination, she nodded curtly and stood. She withdrew from the bedside slowly, her head held high to mask the tears; the salt of them suffused the room. Oscar was sick from the smell of them.

She left the room, and Elisabeth whispered a painfully loving, “Spike, I’m here. The family’s here. We’re not leaving you. Don’t you leave us…” her voice broke; the words felt raw and sharp, and hearing them made Oscar wince, “Not yet…please?’ She kissed him, and came to the window, stood beside him, her face to the snow.

He turned, and waited for her to speak.

“This is something I did to him,” she whispered.

“You did this?” it took everything in him not to bury his fangs in the Slayer’s throat. She had destroyed his kind; if she had anything at all to do with what was happening to William…

“Yes, I did. And he knew it. He had to know. And he still did it. He still saved her…”

The white-hot rage cooled almost as quickly as it had come upon him, and he understood. He looked back over his shoulder. “The girl?”

She nodded, “His daughter. She’s ours,” she choked, “She was taken. Kidnapped. He took her back…and this was the price.”

“Does she know?”

“No,” she said flatly, her eyes lost in the mindless white of the snow, “He doesn’t want her to. If she knew…Poor Joni.”

Suddenly Oscar felt the bond between them tighten again, and this time it would not be ignored. The swell of love was overwhelming.

William felt a kind of love for them, even now, as near death as he was, that he had never felt before. It was almost impossible to ignore.

It was so real, so tangible, that it could almost be a being all on its own.

A voice, loud as a clarion, but too weak to be heard by mortal ears, sounded through him. “Joyce,” Spike whispered, and Oscar shot a look at William.

Could he have spoken?
******************************************************************************

Buffy turned in the doorway, looking up the stairway where they both slept.

No. It wasn’t possible. He was lying.

“No,” she said.

Oscar smiled sadly, and sighed, “A few days ago you believed that your husband was lost, doomed to a kind of hell. A few days ago, you believed he had no soul. The old man is proof you were wrong.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes, confused, “How did you…?”

Oscar only smiled.

“But, he’s gone, and Spike is…”

Oscar’s smile widened, “No, he’s not. He’s waiting.”

“For what?” Despite herself, Buffy felt caught up in what he was saying. It felt real…

“That’s because you know it’s true. I’m telling the truth.”

Buffy swallowed hard, her mouth dry, “Waiting for what?” she asked again.

Again he thought. How much to tell her?

“A chance. A small one, but it is a chance…”

“What?”

“A little girl’s birthday,” Oscar said, “A special little girl’s birthday.”