June 28, 2030- Los Angeles-

Oscar blinked, and swallowed hard. She had never said these things to him before, and they hurt, “So that’s it then?” he said, truly not believing; not wanting to believe, “You think I’m mad, out of my mind? All this time…you’ve…? But you… I remember. That night…what you said…How could you…? I cried with you,” he lowered his eyes as he remembered the torment that William had experienced. He cleared his throat and looked up at her again. There had been enough tears for two lifetimes, there would be no more, “He knew it was wrong, Elisabeth. Near the end, he knew it, on a basic level, he knew. And still…He was almost consumed by fear. Did you know that? And yet, he couldn’t deny you, Elisabeth. Why are you denying him?”
**********************************************

December 21, 2027- New England- 11:00 p.m.-

He came up from the cellar, trying to block out his ramblings, and the smell of impending death that hung in the air here and briefly, he thought about the old saying, the one about glass houses, and people in them. He had never seen a house with so many windows. They were almost floor to ceiling in the common areas of the small house.

That only served to prove to him just who the creature they kept bound in chains- as though he would attack- was.

No vampire he knew of would dare to live in a house like this.

He smiled to himself as he watched her, looking out at the snow that fell so beautifully and silently here. He understood why the windows were here. The winter could be exquisite, with its harsh contrasts and stark relief. It could be both stunning and deadly.

He remembered. And, he understood why he could possibly love the Slayer.

She was so much like him. He’d have to be blind not to see how much she loved him.

*No vampire, that is, except one that was, and I hope still is, the boy who took care of Mary. *

Oscar knew it wouldn’t be long now. He had perhaps hours now, maybe less. He reached out to him wordlessly, using the serenity of the snowfall as a way to focus, bring his own thoughts under control. He reached out, and found confusion and sorrow.

No, it wouldn’t be long now. He was sinking. Drowning.

Soon, it would be over. “I’m sorry,” he said softly as he came up to stand beside her. He didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to feel the loss. But… “I’m afraid that all we can do now is make him comfortable,” his breath shuddered as the fear and confusion William was feeling began to overwhelm him. He was desperate to grasp at anything, anything familiar, “Let him know…” Oscar breathed, trying to keep William’s fear and panic from his own voice. She already had enough to deal with, holding herself up in the face of her, and her daughter’s, grief. “Let him know you love him. He needs it, now. It won’t be long now.”

She turned on him then, with eyes that were so full of pain, so like his Mary’s had been, that he felt dizzy seeing them, “No,” she whispered, “He’s not gone yet. Don’t you dare say that! Did you ask him?” she begged.

“Elisabeth, if there were some way…if I could make it not be so, I would. But, I’m not sure I can help. I’m not sure there is enough of your husband left to understand what it is that you are asking of him. What he does know, the only thing he knows is that he loves you. And, he needs to know that you love him.”

“I do,” she whispered, her eyes watery.

“Then tell him that,” Oscar said, “But, I am sorry. I cannot do what you want me to do. It’s just too much.”

“You have to,” Buffy pleaded, “Maybe Willow could…”

Oscar narrowed his eyes, studying her. She was so small, and vulnerable. So much like Mary. He knew that, if she could have, his Mary would have done anything in her power to bring Diana, and him, her husband, back to her.

If only she could.

Oscar felt his chest ache a little with longing. He longed for his wife and daughter, to tell them he loved them still, and that he was sorry.

He couldn’t do that. But, he could do this, for William.

He looked at her, and with a voice filled with quiet hope, and not a little fear, he said, “I know why William loves you so much,” he nodded to himself. They were family now, “Anything you need. What do you need, Elisabeth?”
************************

Buffy had to turn away. She just couldn’t look at him anymore, at those eyes. Those eyes that looked so much like his. He looked so lost. “I wanted to believe,” she said, “I really did. And, Joni needed someone…I needed someone who knew him. I wanted to believe,” she said again, her voice wavering and her knees trembling as she turned to face him.

She used the kitchen sink as a brace to hold herself up. She couldn’t help the tight feeling in her chest. There was something about the way he looked at her, something about his eyes…Maybe…? Maybe Willow had been right, and he could be…

No. That was gone. It was gone, and it had been too long. She let go of the sink, hoping she could stand on her own because she was tired, so tired of this, and looked down at her hands, hands that were shaking as they held the dishcloth, and realized as she closed the rag tightly in a painful fist, that she was looking at the same hands that had once held Spike’s hope, his one chance at finding peace, and being whole again and had smashed it.

No. He was gone. And now, her daughter was missing. She was missing because she couldn’t accept it.

Buffy swallowed the lump in her throat. She wanted it to go away, but she knew it wouldn’t, not now. It would be like glass in her stomach. It would always hurt. But, she had to accept it.

They were gone, because of her.

The words clawed their way out, tearing her to ribbons as they came, and she hated the tears, and the weakness she was showing. He would not have wanted that.

That was what started this. She’d been weak; but she was going to be strong. She was ready, finally, to be strong. “No,” she said, “I have to accept this. He’s gone because of me. And now, so is Joni. And I have to accept that.”

“No,” Oscar’s voice was low, almost too low to be heard. He couldn’t let this happen. The only sounds in the room were the sound of her breathing, a sound he had promised to keep steady well into her twilight years, a sound he had promised to keep for him, and the sound of the steadily rustling paper that he held in his trembling hand. “No,” he said again, “I won’t let you give up,” he held the papers out to her, hoping she would see, “There is no proof she is dead, and he may not be. The magic that Wolfram and Hart used to enchant that amulet…it’s unlike any I’ve seen, and I’ve been around a long time. Longer than…”

“Spike?” Buffy finished for him.

Oscar closed his eyes, drew in a breath, and sighed, “Yes, longer than Spike,” his shoulders slumped, feeling defeated, he continued, his own loss heavy in his voice, “and I know what it is to lose a child. I know that pain, and I knew his. For you to deny that now, when I can prove to you that there is a way…that it’s not over…” he shook his head. He was tired, dismayed.

She’s done this to me, and now she’s backing out? Running away?

“…I just want to do what he wanted, finally,” Buffy interrupted him, “I just…”

“You told me what happened to him at Wolfram and Hart. You told me that you wondered if you could ever make it right,” Oscar’s voice was tight, skirting the line between anger and hurt, “And now you can, and you’re giving up?”

Buffy passed her hand over her eyes. She didn’t want to see his eyes now, they were so hopeful. “I didn’t…” she sighed.

“…He’s still there. I can feel it. And he’s tied to you…to Joni, and the amulet.”

“You mean the one that I smashed?!” Buffy felt her chest tighten as she shouted the words. They were like a weapon, and they hit their mark. She was a Slayer, after all. She knew how to make him stop.

But he didn’t stop. “Yes, you smashed it,” Oscar said, “and that released the part of Spike’s essence that had been trapped inside it. But, where did that go? Willow and I have been tracking energies ever since Jonina went missing, and we have a few theories. We think that….”

Buffy couldn’t help but taste bile in her mouth at the sound of her name, “Willow,” she spat, “What does Willow have to say?”
******************************************************************************

DECEMBER 22, 2005- LOS ANGELES-

She was talking so fast that Willow was beginning to get a headache, “Buffy, slow down…Yes, I remember…Yeah, that demon that Giles and Ethan Rayne summoned, what about it?”

Willow listened, and felt the blood drain from her face.

This was crazy.

Willow felt her mouth go dry. The words were sticking in her head, and in her mouth like cement, “You want me to do what, Buffy?” she listened again, “Why do you need a locator spell? Spike’s right there…isn’t he?”

She listened more, and nodded, “I’m coming over Buffy,” she said as she hung up the telephone and headed out the door.

I’m coming over to see if I can talk you *out* of this!