AUTHOR'S NOTE: Tissue warning.
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Buffy took the stairs three at a time with her heart in her throat. Willow and Giles were close on her heels.

Buffy had palmed a stake when she heard Dawn scream, but she prayed that she wouldn’t have to use it.

I don’t know what I’ll do if I have to use it. Oh God, Spike…please don’t make me use it.

She didn’t want to use it, but she was prepared to, if she had to.

And, as she stopped at the threshold of the guest room that he lie in, her heart ached at what she witnessed.

His eyes were open, but Buffy could tell that he didn’t really recognize her. But he hasn’t shown his game face, so something, somewhere inside of him, maybe knows… and doesn’t see her as a threat.

Buffy smiled as she watched him reach for her and caress her cheek, “Always looking out for ‘your girls’, aren’t you, Spike?” she murmured. She could hear the hope in her sister’s voice. The depth of her sorrow was palpable in her one, simple question, “Spike, do you know who I am?”

Oh Bit, I know you’re there, and I wish there was another way. I don’t want to do this. Please know that. And, if I hurt you while…I’ll * never * forgive myself, but it needs to be protected. And, until big sis can figure a better way, this is all I can do. I love you, Bit. This is the only way. It hurts, more than I will * ever * be able to tell you. But, I’m so tired of fighting it. I need the spark. I can’t let the spark go out. Being without it…I don’t think…I have to go Bit. But I’m not going away, I promise. I’ll never leave you. I can’t! This is the only way, now.

Maybe William can save me…like I saved him. I just hope she’s strong enough… that she * can * find me, when the time comes. When I’ve made this bugger so sated and slow that it couldn’t possibly do harm to you or your sis, I hope she can find me. But, if she can’t, then I’ll take it with me. I won’t let Travers win. I promise, you *will * be safe. I swear to that.

The demon gave in.

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LONDON, ENGLAND- 22 OCTOBER 1866

William wanted to hide. This wasn’t happening, not to her. Doctor Thurgood had been in her room for hours. He just had to save her. He had to.

Because if she…passed over William knew it would be his fault.

He was supposed to protect her, and he hadn’t.

William sat on the floor across from Emma’s room, with his knees pulled up against his chest. He strained to hear the muffled voices of his mother and father through the old pine door.

Father would not allow him in the room with Emma, and the doctor even though he desperately needed to be. If she was…

He bowed his head and wiped the tears with the back of his hand when he heard the door open. He looked up to see his father’s somber face.

As his father came toward him, he could hear his mother sobbing quietly. The sound was deafening to him.

No, it couldn’t be true. It wasn’t true…

Arthur Ellis stepped out of his daughter’s room with a heart heavy with grief. His eyes met the red-rimmed, swollen eyes of his only son, and his heart slipped further into sorrow, “William,” he choked, wishing he could hold his son.

He knew the boy would blame himself. His boy had always had a tender nature. He was a kind heart. And, he loved their Emma so much.

Arthur knew that this would destroy his boy’s golden heart.

“Father?” William breathed, “Is Emma…?” he hiccupped, “Is she…?”

The spark of hope that smoldered in his boy’s eye nearly broke the man. Arthur Ellis had seen his share of sorrows in his thirty years of life, but he could not bear to see it in his boy.

The pain was so overpowering that speech was a near impossibility, “Emma…has gone, William.”

Arthur watched as his boy crumbled before his eyes. The boy’s face clouded over, and his voice seemed hollow, “Father?” Arthur could see that William was on the verge of tears; could see his chin quavering with the press of emotion, and for an instant he envied the American colonists for their brashness.

Arthur Ellis was a fine banker, but he did not know how to comfort his own son.

“Father,” William’s voice was just a whisper, “I know you must hate me.”

The sincerity with which he spoke would have made any father’s heart go cold, as his did at that moment. He was so taken aback by it, and so overwhelmed with grief, that he said nothing.

In the silence that William took as tacit approval of his statement, he continued, “…and I know that I am to blame. I- I- didn’t see. I looked away, if only for a moment,” his eyes never left his father’s face, though his voice was faltering, stammering due to the grief he felt rushing through him, “S-she fell into the pond. I w-wasn’t fast enough. I’m so sorry, Father. Forgive me? "
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Dawn’s knees nearly gave out as she stood next to his bed. Spike was looking at her. His eyes are so blue. Oh my God, he looks so sad. He was looking at her with the eyes of loss. She remembered that look. This was how he looked at her last summer, with a deep ache that shone through his eyes and made her cry for him even when he could not.

The loss of Buffy was a deep loss. But, the way Spike looked at her now, Dawn knew this pain was deeper even than the loss of Buffy had been. Spike reminded her of an old man; like the ones in the Sunnydale rest home. He was like an old man who was desperately trying to hold onto something he once held firmly in his mind but who now, through the rivers of time, had lost. It must have been something dear to him- or someone.

“Don’t cry,” her voice was soft with unshed tears, “Please?” she sighed as she put a shaking hand up to her own mouth, trying to hold in her tears.

“Emma?” Spike questioned, reaching out to touch Dawn’s face, his own twisted in grief, “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I was supposed to…protect you. But, I wasn’t fast enough,” his eyes closed as he relived a private horror. When he opened his eyes again, they were wide and pleading. Dawn watched as he struggled to rise from the bed, sobbing, “Wasn’t strong enough then… n-not now.”

For Dawn this was torture; watching Spike’s face become more and more panic-stricken. The more he tried to move, and found that he could not, the more desperate his eyes became.

What was only seconds stretched on for hours as she watched him struggle, then gradually, as if death had finally overtaken a body it had long ago forgotten, he went still again, his torso collapsing lifelessly against the mattress.

Dawn stood motionless for a moment, then looked anxiously over her shoulder, at the three that stood silently in the doorway, “I- is he going to be all right?” she asked.

“I don’t know, Dawnie. But, I don’t know how much longer we’ll be dealing with Spike,” without taking her eyes off of Spike, Buffy spoke to Willow, “Willow, can someone from the coven do a binding spell, something like what Travers did, but just for this room?”

“Sure,” she nodded, “Althenea or Lois, or…me.”

“Good. Don’t worry, Dawnie,” Buffy said, “We’ll get him back. Giles, can you help me find it? Maybe go into his head, or wherever this thing is that Travers put in him, and get it out?”

“I’ve told you, Buffy…” he reminded gently

“Well, can I at least know what it looks like?”

Giles smiled sadly, “That, I may be able to give you.”

Buffy nodded, “That’s good. Once I know it, I can kill it.”
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